All of his arguments about these works had been quotations—secondhand knowledge. Something he had acquired. So it wasn’t surprising that he should have been sold the idea that “what sells is what’s right.” He had no personal basis on which to judge whether a work was interesting or boring or whatever.

  A doll, huh?

  I thought back on what Myusel had told me. Hikaru-san had described himself as a doll. Someone who had no aspirations of his own, but could only fulfill the role expected of him by those around him. In order to think of something as interesting or uninteresting, you have to have a basic set of likes and dislikes—Hikaru-san, who had never had preferences of his own, but had always relied on the reactions of others, probably just couldn’t say what he liked or not.

  That was why he disliked things that were ambiguous, that relied on feelings. Because he couldn’t understand them himself.

  That was why he liked things that could be measured and quantified with nice, simple numbers. Because those made sense to him.

  In fact, he seemed to truly hate otaku works and those who cherished them.

  “Otaku are all just a bunch of criminals waiting to happen—”

  “We aren’t all that way!”

  “But isn’t it a fact that such crimes have happened? Isn’t it?” He looked at me through lidded eyes. “All that criticism—doesn’t it proves that otaku are more prone to kidnap girls, or be gropers, or perpetrate brutal murders than people who aren’t otaku?”

  “That’s a manufactured impression!”

  “And what proof do you have of that?” Now Hikaru-san was calm again. “Show me the data that demonstrates that otaku aren’t more likely to commit crimes than anyone else.”

  “I—”

  “Probatio diabolica. The devil’s proof. That’s not a fair question,” Minori-san said, rescuing me as I stood there grasping for words. “I think the burden’s on you to provide data to back up what you’re saying.”

  “Proof is hardly necessary. It’s just common sense. Everyone knows it.” Hikaru-san laughed contemptuously. Then he turned to me, his smile becoming triumphant. “More to the point, though, you keep saying ero game this and ero game that, as if you think that game is the cause of this incident.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “If you think so, then haven’t you effectively accepted my thinking? Give an otaku an ero game, and he’ll turn into a criminal. That’s how otaku work.”

  “Th-That’s not what I meant—”

  “Then what did you mean? Isn’t your argument that we shouldn’t import ero games because they’re dangerous? You sound just like a politician. Trying to curtail freedom of speech—is that something an otaku would do?”

  “Y-You’ve got it all wrong...”

  Of course, that wasn’t really the point. But I felt my thoughts churning as I grew less and less able to follow Hikaru-san’s argument.

  This was no good. Hikaru-san had known all along that he would be called out for this and had come armed with arguments. Right here, right now, with no preparation whatsoever, I was utterly unable to engage with him. He already knew what his conclusion was, and he had no intention of an honest exchange of views here.

  “Look at Japan. Everyone loves to bash otaku, but the entertainment industry has hardly disappeared. This isn’t a serious problem we’re dealing with. ‘Once on the shore, we pray no more.’ Understand?”

  With that, Hikaru-san turned on his heel and began walking briskly toward his own room.

  Minori-san and I stood in the foyer for a moment.

  “Shinichi-kun... What are you going to do?” Minori-san asked, not looking away from the retreating figure of Hikaru-san. “For better and for worse, this is Eldant we’re in.”

  “Believe me, I know...”

  In other words, this wasn’t Japan.

  This wasn’t Japan, so we would see people like Shade, people who had become obsessed as a result of an overstrong stimulus. It might be just one bit of culture, but this wasn’t a world where resistance to such a thing had been built up by small exposures over time. The way I chose to handle this could cause a dramatic reaction—but if I did the wrong thing, we could find ourselves faced with a stunning backlash.

  This had grown beyond a problem of what to do about Hikaru-san.

  “Let me think for a bit.”

  “Hm...” Minori-san responded with a small smile. “Give it your best shot. I’m expecting a lot of you.”

  “Sure.”

  I nodded. But really... What was I supposed to do? I chewed my lip, feeling as if I couldn’t see my proverbial hand in front of my face.

  Chapter Four: Only One Smart Move?

  And so the next day came.

  I made an appearance at Eldant Castle with Minori-san and Hikaru-san. Just like the day before, Petralka, Garius, and Prime Minister Zahar were present in the audience chamber. The previous night, I had alerted them that I wanted to present a fresh explanation.

  “Well, Shinichi,” Petralka said, opening discussions for the Eldant side. “You asked us to grant you some time, and so we have. How is it that you intend to explain yesterday’s incident?”

  “It’s true that the game in question made its way into Eldant with Amutech’s help. But because it was an experimental item, almost a personal effect, oversight of it wasn’t strict enough. I take responsibility for that.” I bowed my head as I spoke. No matter what else I might say, this was one fact I couldn’t avoid.

  Then I went on. “Now, in regards to the game in question. It isn’t specifically a game about putting nobles or royals in terrible positions. There’s a great deal of freedom in how you design the character in that game, so it is possible to create a girl who looks like nobility. Whether or not to do so is up to the owner of the game.”

  “And what is your point?” Petralka asked, her eyes narrowing. “Are you claiming that the humiliation of the nobility and the royal family were not your intention with this ‘ero game’ or whatever you call it?”

  “What I’m going to say next relies somewhat on speculation,” I said. “The question is whether the person who obtained and played that game had a specific intent to mock the nobility or the imperial family. Most of the people who currently possess 3TS and PLP systems are members of the nobility. The consoles originated as prizes in our soccer tournament, and were given to the lizardman team.”

  Of course, from there, most of them had been sold to rich merchants or noble families.

  “And what kind of character designs would they readily understand? Members of the opposite sex whom they’re already familiar with.”

  A large degree of freedom can be a blessing when designing a character, but if you’re not used to that much freedom of choice, you can just end up lost instead, not knowing where to even start. So it’s not that surprising if someone, creating a character in 3D, were to model it on someone they knew.

  “I want to repeat, the game itself was never conceived with the intention of humiliating anyone in the Eldant Empire.”

  I had realized something the night before. Thinking about all this in the context of a game made in Japan had left me blind to it at first, but the Eldant Empire was part of another world, a place whose values and morals were closer to Middle Ages Europe than contemporary Japan.

  In a word, this was a place where it wasn’t uncommon for the children of nobles to get married in their early teens, where demi-human kids trained so that they could enter the military in order to gain citizenship, and all of this was considered perfectly normal. The social mores that caused Japan to view violence and sex as “harmful” just... didn’t exist.

  What did the Eldant Empire think was a problem? A game that involved humiliating someone who appeared to be a noblegirl—in other words, one that might encourage the mockery of the nobility. And then the fact that, at the same time they were worrying about this game, a young noblewoman had actually been kidnapped.

  “Having said that, at the moment, we don’t know the perpetrator’s identity, nor do we know whose game system the game in question was played on. Until we have the facts, I recommend confiscating all games and game systems from the students.”

  “Hold on just a moment.” The objection came from Hikaru-san. “Whatever happened to freedom of speech? You don’t get to make the laws around here.”

  “This is Eldant. Not Japan,” I replied with a shake of my head. “That’s why you won’t be punished for giving an X-rated game to kids under eighteen.”

  Hikaru-san caught his breath.

  “However, the Eldant Empire needs an appropriate response to this situation. Freedom of expression isn’t an excuse to do anything you want, anytime you want, anywhere you want. Again: this is the Holy Eldant Empire. Things aren’t the same here as they are where we came from.”

  Hikaru-san stood silent, biting his lip. I had spent all night thinking of this argument; it was no surprise if he didn’t immediately have a comeback.

  “What do you think of confiscation, Your Majesty?” I asked.

  “Hmm.” Petralka tapped her chin. “A good question. We agree with your suggestion that it might remove the cause of the kidnapping. Of course, we don’t wish this to be taken as an absolute declaration that such things are the cause...”

  Petralka trailed off. I understood: Petralka was the one who had approved of otaku culture and encouraged it to spread. She didn’t want to think that her beloved import might be implicated in a crime.

  But even so, it was still a fact that a crystal ball with an image from an ero game on it had been discovered at the scene of the crime. And we certainly didn’t have the evidence to declare that simple coincidence.

  “Shinichi,” she said. “If you take away these ‘gayme sys-tems,’ it will be equivalent to admitting that the ‘sys-tems’ were at the root of this incident. Can you live with that? Depending how things go, it could even lead to restrictions on Amutech’s activities.”

  You didn’t have to look as far as the Assembly of Patriots to find people who didn’t look kindly on what me and my friends were doing here. Some of our opponents were probably right here, in this castle. They would surely see this as a prime opportunity to attack me, to press Petralka to strip away some of the diplomatic privileges Amutech had enjoyed. And even the empress herself couldn’t ignore her advisors forever.

  I understood her thinking, and her concerns. And it made me happy to know she was worried about us. But still...

  “One of the students is in a grave condition,” I said. “He’s addicted in the worst possible way. I’m given to understand that there are others in a similar state as well. I assume you have people who drown themselves in alcohol here in Eldant. Well, drowning yourself in an ero game is no more healthy. I know I’m really only in a position to make suggestions, not to force anything. But I don’t want to sell things here that are obviously detrimental to our customers’ health, on the logic that they chose it, so it’s their fault.”

  “Shinichi...”

  “Your Majesty. I think Shinichi-dono may have the right of this,” Prime Minister Zahar said to Petralka. “Be it alcohol or medicine, there is a proper way to imbibe all things. Those who don’t know it, but only use it at will for their own pleasure, invite destruction.”

  Petralka was silent for a long moment, then heaved a sigh. As far as it went, though, it looked like she had come around.

  “We’re going to go from house to house and confiscate any students’ game systems we find,” I said, and looked at Minori-san. I had explained my plan to her ahead of time. Having seen what happened to Shade, I worried that trying to take away the systems might result in an argument, or even violence. This was part of why I needed Petralka’s approval.

  Minori-san didn’t say anything, but she nodded: Leave it to me.

  “Very well,” Petralka said finally. “We will trust you to dispose of the games properly.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. With your permission...”

  Our report was over. I prepared to leave with Minori-san to repossess the games. Hikaru-san got ready to go, too, looking none too happy about it.

  But just as we were about to leave, I heard a voice behind me.

  “Wait, Shinichi.” It was Garius.

  I looked back and saw someone who looked like a knight whispering in his ear. When had that guy gotten there? Garius nodded several times, then turned back to me.

  “It seems a communication has reached the home of the kidnapped girl. Along with ransom money, their demands include the dissolution of Amutech, the execution of Kanou Shinichi, and the release of certain imprisoned criminals.”

  “Uh... What?”

  “For what it’s worth, Shinichi, this clears up any suspicion against you,” Garius said, but he was frowning. “However... The criminals this kidnapper wants freed are the Assembly of Patriots.”

  I gasped. Minori-san and I looked at each other, shocked.

  The Assembly of Patriots, a.k.a. “Bedouna.”

  They were what you might call a terrorist group. They were not fans of the otaku culture being imported from Japan, regarding it as cultural invasion, and they weren’t afraid to use violent means to oppose it. When they attacked our school, they had taken hostages, including me, Myusel, Minori-san, a number of students—and Petralka, who had happened to be present at the time. As I was the representative of Amutech, they had even tried to kill me.

  I won’t bore you with the details of our miraculous escape, but in short, the terrorists had been captured, and I hadn’t given the Assembly of Patriots any more thought.

  On reflection, though, there were no guarantees that the leader of the terrorist organization had been present that day. Why should I be surprised if the group had officials and foot soldiers who were still running free?

  “Minori,” Garius said. “You had best take caution. There is reason to fear that Shinichi and Matoba, as well as you and your Jay-Ess-Dee-Eff, may be targeted. That rabble is still hiding among the citizenry.”

  “Yes, sir,” Minori-san said, nodding to Garius, a severe expression on her face. “Thank you very much for telling us.”

  “Yes... Be careful indeed,” Petralka said, looking at me. With the suspicions against me cleared, it seemed her trust had returned. But as happy as that made me...

  “The Assembly of Patriots...”

  What a time for such a dangerous group of people to resurface. The three of us left the audience chamber, all with a sense of foreboding.

  After we left the castle, we found Matoba-san, who had been waiting for us. Just back from Japan again, it seemed. His trips had certainly been frequent recently.

  “I gather there’s been some kind of trouble,” Matoba-san said, pointedly taking off his magic ring. This was a clear indicator that he was about to say something he didn’t want the Eldant people to hear. We each followed his example, taking off our rings as well.

  “Hikaru-kun,” Matoba-san began, looking at the newcomer before he even turned to me. “I’ve read Koganuma-kun’s reports.”

  Incidentally, the Holy Eldant Empire didn’t yet have an internet connection to Japan, but there were local area networks established at several locations nearby—specifically, our mansion, the JSDF garrison, and the school. Minori-san submitted daily reports to the garrison server, and Matoba-san must have looked at them first thing on getting back here.

  “Don’t you think perhaps you’ve overreached yourself?”

  His tone wasn’t harsh, but his words were clearly critical.

  “I—”

  Hikaru-san seemed about to say something, but then stopped unhappily.

  “The thing we must fear most in our work is losing the trust of the Eldant Empire. Your failure threatens to undo everything Shinichi-kun has built. You were supposed to be his assistant—but instead you’ve undermined him.”

  Hikaru-san listened in absolute silence.

  “I had high hopes for you, but...” Matoba-san let out a very long, very pointed sigh.

  Wow, that’s rough.

  I couldn’t help sympathizing, even though I wasn’t the one being criticized, and maybe I should even have felt a bit of schadenfreude.

  “Shinichi-kun,” Matoba-san said, finally turning to me. “What was the outcome in there?”

  “Well, I’ve been cleared of suspicion for the kidnapping as such, but...” I gave him the gist of our talk in the audience chamber.

  “Mm. So you’ve been put in charge of the confiscations, eh?”

  “You’re making it sound like a bigger operation than it is. It’s just me, Minori-san, and Hikaru-san for now.”

  “Hmmm...” Matoba-san held his chin thoughtfully. “All right. Kindly take care of things,” he said, and nodded.

  The Eldant capital of Marinos is built with the imperial castle at its center. The castle itself is made from a hollowed-out mountain, and countless buildings spread out from there along a gently sloping field.

  You can probably guess that the closer you get to the castle, the more important the residents.

  Actually, that made Amutech’s mansion—done in the style of the Eldant nobility, but located on the outskirts of town, far away from the most prestigious districts—something of an oddity. But that’s neither here nor there.

  We left the castle and made right for where all the nobles lived. Hikaru-san was with us, not least in the interest of his own safety. He’d been looking pretty put out and hadn’t said a word since we left the audience. There were some things I would have to talk with him about, and more than a few things I wanted to ask him, but they could wait until we had cleaned up this mess.

  And that was what found us at one noble’s house...

  “We need to take back your game system and check the contents—”

  “Nooooo! That’s miiiiine!” the boy wailed, totally ignoring our explanation. He was one of our students. He flailed his arms and kicked his legs until the maids and butlers managed to get a hold of him and drag him off into the house. On the orders of their masters—the boy’s parents—I assumed. I heard the heavy interior front door shut, muting the boy’s shouts.

 

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