The Romance Fantasy Novel MC is Only Into Me

“Shall we eat together? You seem a bit hungry.”

“I’m fine. I ate earlier.”
Hmm.
“What are you writing so much?”

“D-Don’t look. It’s my diary.”
“......”
Hmm.

“If you’re tired, how about sleeping in my berth? Not that I’m sharing it—just lending the room.”
“Berth...! No, I’m fine!”
Hmmmm.

“Here, apple juice. I bought it from the dining car.”
“Thank you! I’ll pay you.”
“No, it’s fine...”

“I can’t just take it. Here, please.”
Strange.
“That’s a diary too?”

“This is a report.”
“Can I see it?”
“Ah! No! It’s still just practice.”

“......”
A strange feeling.
Both casual and carefully prepared kindnesses were gently declined, leaving Ransell feeling like his thoughts were coming to a halt.
It wasn’t cold or harsh, but there was definitely distance. He thought it wasn’t this much when they first met.

‘Am I feeling hurt?’
For the first time in hundreds of years, Ransell felt disappointment in a human relationship.
He also knew his thoughts were narrow-minded. It was more strange for a grown woman to suddenly open her heart easily to a stranger.

All he could do was bitterly lick his wounds.
“What exactly does a records officer do?”
“Just what it says. Records.”

Marigold placed her finger on her chin and answered.
“What’s happening outside the capital now, what problems exist, and their causes. If there are nobles managing provinces, who they are. The status and culture of the serfs living under them, what they eat, and local specialties.”
That’s complicated.

“Also oral histories, folk remedies, current hot topics, the state of temples and churches. Oh! By the way, the previous archivist was well-versed in geography. So roads through the forest, agricultural environment, wagon routes, regional climate, changes in rivers according to summer rainfall, and...”
He nodded, blinking to stay awake.
When she finished, Marigold puffed out her chest with a proud look.

“How’s that? The job of a records officer.”
“Yeah, sounds cool. Nice.”
“Hehe.”

‘Still, it’s above commoner but below noble.’
What can you do? In this feudal continent, an official’s power was limited. After all, it was a commoner’s job.
“Ransell, stop dozing off and wake up. We have to get off here.”

The train, stopping and departing repeatedly, finally arrived at a small barony in the empire’s west. Marigold’s first destination.
 
‘It’s been a while here.’
Ransell gazed at the fertile farmland before him, lost in memories.

It was still an amazingly fertile plain, destined one day to be scorched in war.
“The baron’s territory is quite vast.”
“That’s because it’s not really a barony.”

“Huh?”
Curiosity appeared in Marigold’s eyes.
“It used to be called the County of Lunter. Even though it’s under the empire now, it was once land ruled by a king.”

“You’re surprisingly knowledgeable, Ransell. I’m impressed.”
“......”
No need to be surprised.

“So, what will you do now?”
“Obviously, observe and record.”
Marigold again wore a smug expression.

“As an official and records officer, I’m obligated to document everything happening in this frontier of the empire. You just rest quietly beside me. I’ll take care of everything.”
By now, Ransell was curious.
What had happened in the eight years he was gone to make her such a loyal official?

Maybe this time she’d live a proper life. That’s what Ransell thought.
.
.
.
“Who goes there! Catch them!”

“Y-Yes? I am an official...!”
“This damned outsider dares to steal our harvest! Look here, people! There’s a rat!”
“Wait, wait! Let me explain...!”

“Catch them!”
“Tie them up!”
What’s going on, Marigold?

Ransell had felt uneasy since she was lurking near the granary. Watching Marigold being bound by the militia, he let out a small laugh.
“Thief! Catch the thief!”
“I’m not a thief! I’m not a thief! Waaah!”

Eventually, Marigold was dragged away.
Ransell watched her silently from a step back.
“Don’t just watch, help me! Ransell!”

“You said to rest quietly beside you.”
“I did, but! I said that, but! You’re my guard!”
“If it’s really dangerous, I’ll help. Don’t worry.”

“This feels really dangerous now!”
“I’m fine still.”
“How far must it go to be not fine?”

Ransell smiled contentedly watching Marigold being escorted.
She was firmly secured by her head and arms to the stocks set up in the village center.
“After one day of detainment for grain theft, you will be banished!”

“I’m not a thief...!”
Still, just detainment. Marigold the records officer was merciful. That was something.
“Ugh...”

Seeing her upset face, Ransell stepped forward.
After a short talk, the misunderstanding was quickly cleared.
“Why didn’t you say so earlier? We misunderstood.”

“...You never gave me a chance.”
“Cough, we’ve been struggling to survive lately. Please understand.”
Ransell intervened.

“There’s so much grain here. How can they be struggling?”
“Not all the grain belongs to us, sir. There are reasons we guard it with militia.”
“I see? But still, it seems better off than other serfs.”

“Well... it’s hard to explain.”
“Um... you two, please untie me first.”
Marigold’s suppressed voice came out. Her legs were already trembling from the bent posture.

“Oh dear, I forgot! Huh? Why won’t this come undone?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Wait, what’s wrong?”

Marigold had been stuck in an awkward position for an hour due to broken stocks. Once freed, she collapsed onto the ground.
Her eyes dead.
Her pride as an elite official shattered in an instant.

“Ransell, traitor.”
“......”
She hadn’t expected the stocks to break.

.
.
.
“This doesn’t make sense no matter how I think about it.”
“What doesn’t?”

That evening, while nibbling bread at the inn, Marigold suddenly raised her head.
“This area is fertile plains with abundant grain, a train stop, and a not-small population.”
“So?”

“This shouldn’t be a place where people starve.”
“They say the share taken is small. Most serfs farming noble lands experience this. Nothing unusual.”
Of course, Ransell was also puzzled.

Vast fields and overflowing grain, yet a dying village within the territory.
The contrast between the emaciated serfs passing by and the vast fertile fields reaching the horizon was strangely disturbing.
“I’ll investigate. It’s a good subject for my report anyway.”

Next morning, Marigold launched her operation.
“Why is that woman staring here again?”
“Don’t know. She’s an official from the capital.”

“An official? That one?”
The village, fields, granaries, passing wagons—
Marigold observed and recorded all of it meticulously.

“Alcohol...!”
Soon she found her answer.
“It’s alcohol, Ransell! Alcohol!”

Marigold’s face stiffened.
Unconsciously, she grabbed Ransell’s hand tightly. Their faces were almost touching.
“Ahem. Excuse me.”

“......”
She jumped back, startled.
“Anyway, look at this. This region has been brewing more alcohol than allowed. Here! Look at my calculations.”

Ransell squinted at Marigold’s clay tablet filled with dense formulas.
‘What is all this?’
He had lived hundreds of years but was still bad at math.

“According to imperial law, at least 17.5% of last year’s harvest must be reserved for next year’s sowing, and up to 10% can be brewed into alcohol. Here, almost half—half!—is turned into alcohol. That’s why there’s no grain left. This is clearly a violation of imperial law, yes!”
“Hmm, yeah.”
Ransell thought, ‘Who really follows all that?’ but kept it to himself.

Even in the Dante barony, sometimes more was allocated to alcohol production for efficiency.
Half seemed a bit extreme, though.
“Hehe, I think we’re about to catch a big fish.”

Addicted to dopamine, Marigold didn’t stop there.
After energetic legwork here and there, she discovered a secret distillery and alcohol storage managed by the Lunter count.
Ransell shook his head in awe and followed her closely.

‘It’s coming soon.’
A week later, exactly as Ransell expected, things unfolded.
“I’m the steward for the Lunter family. Can I get straight to the point without beating around the bush?”

A well-dressed man appeared before them.
“Our master says: ‘Don’t poke around too much and pass through carefully. There’s a limit to our patience.’”
A threat?

“I was already planning that, so don’t worry. I’ll leave tomorrow. I’ve finished the report to the royal family. Please tell them that.”
Marigold stood up after saying that.
The next day, she was tied up in the stocks again.

“You should have listened when I told you, rude little official girl.”
“I’m reporting this too! I will report this!”
“Go ahead! If it’s something nobles do, people just accept it. Violation of imperial law? Ridiculous. Who listens to nobles and who listens to commoners? That’s why rookies can’t be officials. The Lunter count is merciful enough to just confiscate the report. Got it?”

“No! My report! Give it back!”
“Can’t give it back?”
Ransell bit his seed calmly, watching.

This time it wasn’t mischief. Marigold wanted to experience how low a frontier official’s status really was.
In this land still dominated by feudalism, that was exactly the standing of a commoner official.
‘Seems like I’ve shown enough reality.’

As the sun set, Ransell approached the drooping Marigold.
He shooed away a wild bird hopping over her bound head.
“...Ransell?”

“Recorder Marigold.”
Even in the Fallen Noble Lady Simulation, this was a named ending—the ‘High Official Marigold’ route.
“Do you want power?”

“Huh?”
Shall we try to build it?