Became the Villainess’s Guardian

Freugne had wished for a quiet life.

While she herself understood that her life structure prevented such tranquility, she had at least hoped for peace at home.

If she closed her eyes, that day remained vividly etched in her mind.
Edan obstructing her path, the blood he had shed immediately after, and his face calmly smiling as if nothing had happened after getting back up – all of it.

It was an experience she never wished to repeat.
What if he hadn’t gotten up back then? What if he had truly died? She herself didn’t know what unimaginable acts she might have committed.

‘No, positive thoughts. Good thoughts.’

Having overcome that trauma to a certain degree, Freugne realized it was better to directly address and uproot the source of her unease rather than remain powerlessly paralyzed.
Understanding the importance of information better than anyone, she gathered intelligence from all corners of the kingdom without discrimination.

Agents dispatched or local informants she had co-opted duly reported any significant incidents they were aware of back to the capital.
And among those informants was a superintendent selling the future to survive the present.

“I need information from the Metropolitan Police Headquarters.”

“What specific information are you referring to?”

“…All of it.”

Most of the information the superintendent provided was, in fact, largely insignificant.
For instance, details about a thief being caught or a con artist on the run, mostly filled with petty crimes and the personal profiles of those miscreants – hardly matters of consequence to Freugne, whether she knew them or not.

With the recent panic causing unrest in Londinium and the kingdom’s law enforcement, riots had begun occurring frequently, but even those were well within the expected range of events.

Was it not plausible for fathers who had lost their jobs and could no longer feed their children to take to the streets with a mere placard, demanding a loaf of bread?
Freugne could even seize the opportunity to deploy organization members and entice them with offers like, “Not only bread, but also high-paying part-time work – interested?”

However, there was one point that gave her pause.

Organized movement observed.

Recent panic presumed to be the cause. Purpose therefore likely organized assembly.

Scale appears small, unlikely to escalate into armed group, but continued monitoring advisable.

When Freugne initially received this report, she had inwardly flinched, wondering if they had been caught.
But upon noting the small scale mentioned, she realized it could not be referring to her own organization, whose influence spanned not just Londinium but the entire kingdom, and even extended slightly overseas, albeit partially.

And this was the extent of information Superintendent Baldur could provide.

“Any news about the Demonic Tribe?”

“We have yet to ascertain anything.”

“Rumors are spreading in certain circles about the Demonic Tribe being present within the kingdom. It remains mere hearsay for now, but we must take some action soon!”

“Yes, which is why we are prioritizing our efforts in that area.”

“I understand. So, any news about the Demonic Tribe?”

“…I’ve already said there is none.”

“I see. So, about the Demonic Tri-”

“Arghhhhh!!”

Parliament relentlessly pressed him like a child in the back seat on a holiday road trip, repeatedly asking when they would arrive.
Unfortunately for them, despite the increased workload without a corresponding budget increase, the Metropolitan Police Superintendent had already expended all remaining capacity merely maintaining law and order.

Thus, the unemployed Ulr, possessing the most free time by virtue of neither attending school nor holding a proper job, was dispatched.

“Observations of small-scale organized activities have been made, centered around the slums. Please verify their veracity.”

“And if such an organization truly exists, how should we proceed?”

“Unless the Demonic Tribe is openly gathering, just leave them be for now. We can’t rule out unforeseen incidents occurring.”

“Understood.”

Having been tasked with investigations even the police could not conduct, Ulr began wondering if this shadow government or Londinium’s self-governing body, but he decided to faithfully carry out the orders for the time being.

Thus, after leading the organization members into the slums, Ulr soon returned with the investigation results.

“It seems such an organization does indeed exist.”

“Oh, and what was their purpose?”

“A group harboring significant discontent towards Londinium.”

“Well… I can’t say I’m entirely unable to understand that.”

While Freugne was a citizen of Londinium herself, she found it difficult to offer them cover.

But then, how many in this city did not wish for their workplace to be swept away by a typhoon?
As long as they did not vent their grievances by colluding with the Demonic Tribe to betray the nation, they could serve the positive function of instilling a sense of vigilance in the officials and suggesting paths for improvement.

“And they seem to be entrancing and drawing in those around them.”

“Entrancing, you say?”

“They revere some book like priests with the Bible. Almost as if… they’ve been brainwashed.”

“Brainwashed……”

“While we’ll need to infiltrate them directly to learn more details, there were testimonies from those around them about their personalities changing abruptly upon joining.”

And with Ulr’s subsequent words, Freugne let out a small gasp.

The talent of entrancing people.
Was that not the exclusive domain of the Demonic Tribe… rather than Edan’s ability?

Freugne did not think Ulr had merely confused them with pseudo cult fanatics.
If he had detected any suspicious scent, there was sufficient reason to investigate.

Edan’s presentation received a rather ordinary response.
That was how the outcome of my 30-minute, condensed rhetorical tour de force could be summarized.

Understandably, most people still held no interest in tearing apart and slaughtering the Demonic Tribe. Nor could I persuade them by claiming I had developed a conviction after being shot.

Of course, I did identify those who might be willing to join the cause and arranged to discuss further details later on.

After enduring various conversations until I was utterly exhausted, I was finally rescued by Professor Magni and managed to escape.

“Even here, you’re still harping about weapons.”

“Well, isn’t it true? With no one else worrying about the Demonic Tribe’s potential invasion, shouldn’t I at least maintain the balance?”

“It might seem like an overreaction, but you’re not wrong. However, keep in mind that some people cannot view it solely positively. Weapons can be aimed at the same humanity, after all.”

As we returned by the carriage I had arranged in advance, I could not help but ponder deeply.

While not the same world I had resided in, there were many similarities.
Aside from magic, the laws of physics were comparable, and the technological levels and lifestyle exuded a distinctly modern aura – unsurprising, given that the game developers had referenced actual history.

As someone possessing vague future knowledge, I naturally knew how to end the wars that would determine the fate of nations.
As history had proven, by dropping one Jamming and one Demolition on the Demon King’s Castle and the Demonic Tribe’s largest city respectively, pulverizing them down to the atomic level, the war could be brought to a victorious conclusion.

Unfortunately, at this point in time, the victory cheat key of the atomic bomb fell within the realm of over-technology, a weapon far too advanced.
How could there be atomic bombs when radiation itself was barely understood?

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I have extracted this shimmering metal. What would be a good use for it?’

‘It seems to have cancer-curing properties. This is surely a groundbreaking discovery for human medicine!’

‘Excellent. Any other potential applications?’

‘It shimmers so beautifully, why not apply it to our faces?’

‘Oh.’
Oh, indeed.
I had to grasp the back of my neck after witnessing mages at an academy suggest using radioactive materials as toothpaste or some similarly amazing notion.

Thanks to that, it would be easy to achieve the life accomplishment of having a radiation exposure unit named after me, but the thought of mages saying things like “A single banana emits 0.1 milliEdans of radiation” seemed rather unsettling, so I immediately dismissed the idea.

Then which aspect should I explore?
Something I could directly create, related to electrical magic, what could I-

Thump!

“Woah, woah!”

“What’s the matter?”

Accompanied by the sound of horses neighing, the carriage came to an abrupt halt.
In response to Professor Magni’s inquiring glance out the window, the coachman replied:

“Another carriage got stuck in the mud ahead, blocking the road. No need to worry, it seems they’ll clear it soon.”

“The wheels seem to be spinning fruitlessly. With no horses to pull it out, I suppose there’s no choice.”

“Indeed. Who would have thought to bring such a pastime vehicle usually confined to the vicinity of one’s residence all the way out here?”

“…Huh?”

Upon hearing those words, it felt like the clouds in my mind had parted.

Yes, the automobile.

The revolutionary land transportation that would herald the twilight of the carriage era.
A vehicle currently straddling the boundary between a means of conveyance and an extravagant hobby for the wealthy.

Turning to Professor Magni, I inquired:

“Professor.”

“Yes?”

“What if we tried to properly commercialize something like that?”

“Intriguing, but why? Are you considering attempting it yourself?”

“Yes, I’d like to give it a try.”

A monstrous construct of several tons of iron. A mobile fortress impervious to all but the most potent magic or firearms.

Even if I could not achieve that level before the war, it would be perfectly suited as a troop transport. There was ample merit in taking on the challenge.

And who knew? Perhaps the military would eventually employ squads of mages firing off magic while riding motorcycles.

While the shock of the panic had subsided somewhat, and there were those striving to resolve it, not everyone could be saved.

No matter how newly appointed the Prime Minister might be, taxes would not descend from the heavens by parachute like airdropped relief supplies during their inauguration ceremony.
The previous Prime Minister’s words about being “unable to do anything” resonated within the new one, the sole difference being that the latter had not directly uttered them aloud.

Those instantly branded as unemployed, their family’s lives plunging into ruin, and the dwindling pool of workers being squeezed ever tighter.
Their hearts were riddled with holes, as if striving to set a record for the depths of destitution their lives could reach.

And as the adage goes, the devil appears to tempt when the human heart is at its weakest.

Around the time Edan was compiling the business report to submit to Freyja,
in a dimly lit corner of the Londinium outskirts, where dilapidated shanties formed a slum, a man in an immaculate white suit approached a drunkard lying on the street.

“Who are you?”

“I’ve come to share a wonderful message.”

Upon seeing that attire, so white as to seem incongruous in the slum, the drunkard snorted derisively and waved his hand dismissively.

“…I’ve got no money to spare for peddlers. Not that I’d have any even if you weren’t one, so bugger off.”

“I did not come here to sell anything.”

“Then what?”

“To introduce you to something enticing.”

Amidst the apathy no one cared about, a single outstretched hand offered itself to these people mired in utter helplessness.

“Would you not be interested in overthrowing Londinium together?”

The man in the white suit produced a book with a crimson cover from within his coat.

A ghost.
A ghost was haunting Londinium.