Became the Villainess’s Guardian

Late at night, Bergson Hotel.
A match flickered to life, casting faint illumination into the darkened room.

Relying on the dim glow, Freugne rose from the bed and approached Edan, waving her hand before his face.
Then, in a soft whisper beside his ear – not loud enough to wake him, yet audible enough for verification:

“…Uncle, are you asleep?”

“……”

His chest rose and fell rhythmically, devoid of any discernible response.

Assured of Edan’s slumbering state, Freugne quietly exited the hotel room.
Even if discovered, she could simply claim to have stepped out for a brief nighttime stroll – she was no longer a child.

Alas, Edan still seemed to partially perceive her through the lens of youth.

‘But that is a concern for later.’

Upon returning from the historical sites, Freugne had discovered a small note left outside their room door – their prearranged means of covert contact.
Inconspicuously tucked beneath a pillar where it could easily be overlooked, a few succinct lines were scrawled in Ulr’s familiar hand:

[Magician Carno wishes to meet]
[Due to the discovery of Demonic Tribe presence in Antrim]

This posed no significant issue – while the populace maintained a tacit awareness of the Demonic Tribe’s lingering presence within Antrim, it was an open secret.
However, the final line compelled Freugne to venture forth in the dead of night:

[They are plotting to harm Edan]

Freugne made her way to the alleyway where she had previously encountered Carno.
And within the shadows, the magician’s voice greeted her:

“You’ve arrived. My apologies for the intrusion during your Antrim excursion, but an urgent matter has arisen.”

“I received your report. Do you happen to know any specific dates?”

“The Demonic Tribe has only recently become aware of Mr. Edan’s arrival. For now, simply being cognizant of their intentions should suffice.”

“Please continue monitoring them closely. If you uncover any further details or suspect any troubling actions, report them directly to Ulr immediately.”

“Ulr, you say? In fact, I had already relayed the information to him earlier-”

“You called?”

“……!”

Unlike Freugne, who had grown accustomed to Ulr’s manifestations from thin air, Carno recoiled in startled alarm, instinctively retreating a step.

“Truly, the Demonic Tribe’s information dissemination is alarmingly swift – their evasion equally so. Hence, our expectations of you are substantial.”

“Un-understood. Please convey my gratitude to the boss.”

“Have no concerns. Your contributions shall be duly acknowledged, without any diminishment.”

And indeed, they were faithfully relayed – as she had inexorably foreseen.

Upon her quiet return to the hotel room after this brief rendezvous, Freugne realized the imperative to reach a decision.

Until now, she had managed to conceal her true nature – primarily due to the more immediate threats directed at herself rather than Edan.
Yet knowing he had become an overt target for the Demonic Tribe, continued secrecy gnawed at her conscience.

Seated beside the bed, Freugne gazed upon Edan’s unblemished, serene countenance – unmarred by any injury, courtesy of her abilities, though she vividly recalled the gaping wound that had once pierced his chest.

The pale-suited Demonic Tribe member had remarked:

‘It shall become arduous for you, I acknowledge.’
‘But what of the one you so cherish?’

Originally, she had not intended to entangle Edan in such complexities.
Even left to his own devices, he was diligently preparing for the Demonic Tribe’s invasion like none other. Introducing the mental strain of a Dark Lord’s machinations would serve no constructive purpose.

But if the Demonic Tribe persisted in targeting him…
If he were to suffer harm… Or if they revealed the truth before she could…

‘Then what?’

Would he still be capable of loving her?
Not the innocuous, model student Freugne, but the shadowy puppet-master who wielded Londinium – could he regard that Freugne with the same affection?

Despite her ability to glimpse the future as easily as opening a book, the prospect that the answer might be ‘no’ filled her with trepidation.

This world occasionally births individuals possessing extraordinary abilities.

The previous hero alone could emit beams from his eyes.
Naturally, their sheer potency – capable of effortlessly cleaving walls asunder with a mere graze – had enabled his solitary advance upon the Dark Lord’s stronghold.

“Oh, this is rather formidable……”

“I suppose this level of prowess is requisite to be deemed a hero.”

While the current railgun posed no risk of injury unless overloaded, we often overlooked certain realities – like my regenerative capabilities potentially stemming from remnants of the game system.

Still, the title of ‘hero’ was not bestowed upon just anyone.
On the second day of the hero-themed tour, the meticulously preserved sites where the hero had battled bore ample evidence of stone structures cleaved by some tremendous force. I let out a soft exclamation of awe.

I contemplated the immense power required to obliterate those haphazardly sliced walls.
Conventional firearms would prove insufficient, and even a fully charged railgun might struggle to pulverize stone fortifications.

Disregarding cost-effectiveness and optimizing sheer destructive capability, even greater devastation would be achievable.
As an electrician magician, I could potentially unleash comparable devastation without heavily taxing marestones. And if I disregarded personal safety by disabling failsafes… well.

‘I shall ponder that if the occasion arises.’

My direct participation remained unconfirmed, after all.

Moreover, Carno’s research institute had mentioned crafting a hero-suit incorporating my weapons and techniques.
While harboring some design reservations, the overall prospective result was highly anticipated.

“Shall we visit the lake in District 7 tomorrow? I hear its fountain is quite renowned.”

“That seems to lie along the route I had planned. We could stop by on our way.”

The day after, I intended to register the Belfast branch of Ceres Martop.
One never knew – perhaps tractors manufactured there would eventually traverse Demonic Tribe territories.

But for this moment, I wished to savor Freugne’s company.
Gesturing towards a nearby photographer’s setup, I suggested:

“Since we’ve come this far, let’s capture a memento photograph.”

“A photograph?”

“Surely no better way exists to enshrine lasting memories.”

While modern ubiquity often renders it an overlooked novelty, this era still relied upon visual mediums like paintings and photographs to revisit the past.

So that later, even if war erupted and this city crumbled,
at least the memories would endure.

“One photograph, if you please.”

“Why, thank you. With this lovely sunset and lighting, please stand beside that sculpture. The adjacent cathedral will also be nicely framed.”

“Come, Freugne. And let’s smile.”

“Oh, yes.”

After a few flashbulb bursts, the photographer promptly produced five prints and handed them to me.
The film vividly captured my beaming smile alongside Freugne’s slightly more restrained grin.

“They turned out splendidly. Now that we’re returning, you’ll need to diligently focus on your studies?”

“Uncle.”

“Yes?”

“What if I were to disappoint you later on?”

And Freugne abruptly posed that inquiry.

Her studies, perhaps? Yet from what I had heard, few students at Cardiff School surpassed her academic prowess.
Syphe, was it? I recalled her being associated with the foundation under my oversight – excluding that exceptionally gifted child, Freugne’s magical aptitude was hardly lacking, and her written scores ranked among the highest.

“I’m already proud of you.”

“Not the present, but what if – just what if – I make a grave mistake later that deeply disappoints you?”

“Everyone makes mistakes. But I can forgive you, nonetheless.”

“Even if it’s an egregious error?”

I halted my steps. This went beyond mere academic stress.
Freugne had committed some transgression – or at least, something she deemed a mistake by her own standards.

Come to think of it, she had seemed rather despondent since this morning.
Realizing this was no fleeting emotional fluctuation, I led her to a nearby bench, sensing a solemn discussion lay ahead.

“Is there something you wish to say?”

“How would you feel if I turned out to be different from who you thought I was?”

“Such as?”

“For instance, if I were far greedier than I appear, or…a bad child?”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.”

“Let me provide an example, then. What if I told you, um, that I have never regarded you as a father figure?”

I was at a loss as to why Freugne would suddenly pose such a query.
From what I knew, there was no kinder, more adorable child – she was seamlessly managing the charitable foundation I had entrusted to her care.

And if she claimed to have never viewed me as a father figure, I would be honestly wounded.
Yet if I had prompted such sentiments, the fault would undoubtedly lie with my shortcomings as a guardian.

But this was merely a hypothetical example, so no need for dismay.
While uncertain about Freugne’s specific concerns, I sought to alleviate her burden:

“First, I shall ascertain if my understanding aligns with reality. And then……”

“…And then?”

“Even so, I would still love you.”

“Oh… If you put it that way……”

As if having reached some resolution, Freugne tightly grasped my hand.

“Not now, but I wish to have an important discussion with you later.”

“Very well.”

I responded:

“I shall await it.”