A few days after Eric’s wedding.

Ed got introduced to the Duchy of Cafeter by his Aunt Julia. Her husband, Viscount William Reinhardt, worked as an official in the duke’s court. A rather unique sort of official, known as a Vice Chancellor… basically the same level as a modern-day prime minister.

The only catch? The imperial court, not the Duke of Cafeter, is the one who appoints this Vice Chancellor.

To get this all straight, understanding the complicated history of imperial nobility would help, but honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. Just think of the Vice Chancellor’s position as a sort of proof that the duchy belongs to the empire. Sure, the duke is the secular head honcho, but it’s the imperial court that gives him the thumbs up.

So, what’s the Vice Chancellor’s job like? Let’s just say he had a LOT to do—essentially sharing the same workload as the duke.

Taxes, diplomacy, customs, military duties, administration, customs (again), law enforcement—yep, a real bundle of joy.

If the duke’s job was to ensure all these things made sense and concoct strategies, the Vice Chancellor’s gig was more about identifying the problems and demanding solutions. It’s basically a case of “I scratch your back; you scratch mine” but with more paperwork.

Lately, the Duchy of Cafeter had been in a bit of a pickle due to the duke’s unexpected decision to run away from home.

Anthony, the duke’s son who was acting in his place, was a talented heir but sorely lacking in experience. Given that most decisions here were made based on “tradition,” his inexperience was particularly disastrous. Naturally, that meant that Viscount Reinhardt was drowning in work.

What does that mean for Ed?

“Stop! Stop! Please tell me your purpose for visiting and your name!”

“I’m Ed from the Frieden family. I was invited by Viscount Reinhardt, and I heard I’m supposed to stay here at the official residence for a few days.”

“Please hold on. Let me check.”

“Sure thing.”

“Um, I’m really sorry, but it seems there’s nothing about you here. You’re not on the roster.”

“What?”

It meant that Ed had been so swamped that he put aside a “personal favor” his wife asked and forgot about it entirely.

And that’s why Ed found himself stuck outside the Duke of Cafeter’s consulate.

…

“Uh, can you please check with the Viscount?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until he returns from his official business.”

“When do you expect him back?”

“Typically, he should be back by sunset… but he has been burning the midnight oil at the office lately, so you might be waiting a couple of days.”

“Oh, great….”

“If it’s not urgent, I can offer you some accommodations for a few days.”

Clearly, this sort of thing wasn’t an isolated incident.

The staff member at the gate was courteous, yet the underlying message was a clear “Sorry, no entry!”

“Hmm.”

Truth be told, there was no real rush. Outside the official residence didn’t mean there was nowhere else to go.

The only thing separating the inside and outside was a wall that could have doubles as a rampart.

So, sure, Ed could take it slow and wait, but…

“I’m feeling a bit worn out.”

At that moment, Ed was more tired than usual.

It was the joke that he got stuck traveling by carriage instead of a train. Trying to read a book on a bumpy carriage ride had him feeling seasick enough to heave. His stomach was rolling, and his head was throbbing—definitely not the best time for literature.

He remembered someone saying there was a library in the Cafeter residence… books… he needed to read those books…

Anyway, all he wanted was to get inside and sleep.

“Can I at least crash in the annex for tonight? I’m too beat to ride any more—”

“Hmm, we could just write it off as a simple visit, but then we’d have to check your belongings and put anything deemed risky in storage—are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure. Go for it.”

“Alright, then let me check your luggage real quick.”

Ed handed over his shoulder bag to the employee. When the staff member plopped it onto the wooden table, a thud echoed in the air. Apparently, a few too many books had snuck in there.

“You’ve got yourself a lot of books here.”

“Yep.”

The employee began pulling out the books one by one, flipping through each. It wasn’t like he was planning to censor them, but probably checking to see if Ed had stashed anything sketchy within those pages.

Then, a thin metal plate clattered to the ground.

Oh right, that was my bookmark! I could kinda remember where I stopped reading, so losing it wasn’t the end of the world…

“Hmmm? What’s this plate? Pardon me, but what’s your connection to His Excellency the Duke of Cafeter?”

“Huh?”

It dawned on Ed—oh wait, that was something the duke gave him.

It was a badge allowing him access to borrow knights from the duchy, but it looked so much like a bookmark that Ed hadn’t connected the dots.

“Well, let’s just say we’ve met a few times.”

“I see…?”

Next up from the bag was a golden fountain pen. It had the imperial seal embossed on the cap as a sign that he was an “Honored Guest of the Imperial Household,” sans his name.

Princess Isis gifted it to him since he sometimes needed to go by different identities like Homer and Herodotus.

“……”

A bunch of other random items surfaced too.

A silver and jade rosary bracelet sent by the Holy See claiming proof of his ‘bishopric,’ a passport of sorts that allows free movement in any country with a teleportation gate, a ring that represented a ‘sage’ sent from the Royal Society, a Haren scepter gifted by the Lazy King as a memento, a platinum card from the Upper Alliance, and even a golden shepherd’s staff that could summon help from any beastfolk whenever he needed it.

Since all these were small items, they likely just got stuffed in there and forgotten.

He realized he probably needed to clear out his bag sometime soon. It was uncharacteristically heavy.

“I think that’s everything from my bag… do I have anything that needs to be put aside?”

“Ah, no! We’ll get you straight to the consulate!”

“Can I put my things back in?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of that, just hold on for a sec!”

“Oh, let me do it; I don’t want to ruin my books by just tossing things back in.”

“Yup! My bad!”

The personnel watching over the consulate were surprisingly friendly. Thanks to their direct guidance, Ed managed to find his temporary lodging without losing his way.

For the night, he decided to stay in the annex, and the plan for tomorrow was to catch up with his aunt’s daughter.

Normally he would have settled in with a book before dozing off, but…

He was completely wiped. The lingering motion sickness had his head still throbbing.

“Why is my head hurting so much…?”

With his stomach churning, reading was firmly off the table.

He’d leave the rest for tomorrow’s contemplation.

…

…

…

Maybe it was the exhaustion from reading in the carriage.

After a long while, Ed had a childhood dream. Not just any childhood dream—specifically, a memory from before he’d met Isolde. In the dream, he was just a little kid sitting in his study, lost in a book.

The door creaked open and Aunt Julia stepped in.

“Oh, my dear nephew! I see you’ve been reading in the study, but that book looks a tad too advanced for you~. What do you even understand that has you so mesmerized?”

“……”

Looking back, the ‘me’ of childhood didn’t seem particularly warm or affectionate. You know, when a person dies and comes back to life, they often turn a little quirky.

Adapting to a new “life” isn’t just a matter of moving to a different country, after all.

“Auntie? Could you spare a moment to chat with me~?”

“……”

“Auntie…? Can you hear me?”

To Ed, this “new world” felt like one big cage, barely giving him the ability to move. You know, like one of those confinement devices for the unfortunate prince. Being born again as a child with adult memories didn’t just mean getting younger; it was more like… torture. Think solitary confinement that strips away your humanity.

All he could do all day was lie there, cry, eat, do his business, and give up.

It reminded him of how subjects were subjected to solitary confinement for reprogramming in the old Soviet Union, but in this world, there was no Big Brother or O’Brien to rescue him because he lost track of the whole “2+2=5” concept.

Days turned into weeks, where he couldn’t see anything due to underdeveloped eyesight, with foreign gibberish filling his ears. He seriously thought he’d fallen into hell since he died and came back.

Weeks dragged into months, no speaking because his vocal cords weren’t ready; all he could manage was scream and cry—basically, his only way to express himself.

For months, he was unable to walk, couldn’t even figure out the basic elements of bladder control, and indulging in the food he craved or diving into the books he desired was off-limits. Enduring that period meant giving up quite a few things.

For instance…

“Hoo hoo, keep ignoring Auntie, and I’ll tickle you! Yay!”

“……”

“…Not ticklish?”

Those little reactions he used to have.

He had given up completely. Tossed aside every sense of “reality” that a living, breathing human should feel. The world had come to resemble pure abstract fiction—like reading a story that ends the second you close the book. Just a mirage of words, nothing more.

That’s how he managed to adjust to this place as an infant.

[The witch said].

[“You must give me that voice of yours. Now, stick out your tongue; I need to cut it off to brew my potion.”]

[The witch snipped the little mermaid’s tongue; now she was mute, unable to sing or speak at all.]