Since coming to this world, I’ve noticed something troubling.

  It’s the way people here act and what they consider common sense.

  I have a rough idea of the norms in FBO’s setting, but since the common sense of Japan is more deeply ingrained in me, there are gaps here and there.

  When there’s a mismatch in thinking, communication can go seriously wrong, so I’m careful—but in quick, unconscious decisions, my mistakes stand out.

  And what’s especially baffling to me is…

  **"Pardon me."**

  The behavior of the people I don’t know—calling them "background characters" would be rude, but in game terms, they’re the ones who never made it into the main cast.

  I get that it’s weird to expect to fully understand how people think and act.

  But even so, I’m utterly at a loss with how cold Ingrid-san is.

  I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

  Well, I can sort of guess.

  But I don’t know if that attitude of hers is genuine or not.

  Late at night, when Nell and Amina are fast asleep and I’ve confirmed no one is listening.

  Calling a woman out at this hour feels questionable, but considering the conversation we’re about to have, I didn’t want Nell and the others to hear.

  I knock, receive permission, and enter—her appearance suggests she was about to sleep.

  **"Sorry for the te hour."** **"No, it’s about the matter from earlier today, correct?"** **"Yeah."**

  In this world, magic-powered mps make it easy to stay up te in well-lit rooms if desired.

  This room has one magical mp, but of course, a single one isn’t enough to illuminate the entire space.

  **"I can’t offer tea, but I’ve prepared hot water."** **"Thank you."**

  In her hand is a tray with two steaming cups.

  For commoners, boiling water is a chore, but this is a house provided by His Grace the Duke.

  There’s even a magical tool for heating water.

  On the other hand, everyday consumables like tea leaves only exist for guests.

  The room has a chair, a small table, a closet, and a bed—I gesture for her to take the extra chair I brought in temporarily.

  I sit across from her, the table between us.

  I accept the cup she offers and take a sip—it’s just hot water, tasteless and pin.

  **"So."**

  Ingrid-san sits across from me.

  **"Right, about taking you with us—honestly, I’m not too keen on the idea."**

  Since there’s nothing to savor, there’s no reason to prolong the conversation.

  So I cut straight to the point, furrowing my brow with a troubled expression.

  **"May I ask why?"**

  If she simply said, *"Understood,"* that’d be easiest—but I doubt it’ll be that simple.

  The more obedient someone seems, the harder they are to predict.

  Sure, some people genuinely comply, but given the Duke’s nature, I doubt he’d send someone like that.

  **"The most straightforward reason is your level is too low. Where we’re going is deep in the mountains, with frequent monster encounters. Frankly, fighting while protecting you there is too risky."**

  But living with Ingrid-san, I’ve realized she’s not the type for deception—she’s straightforward.

  Her poker face is solid, but her words and actions are honest.

  **"Then I’ll raise my level and allocate my stats to meet the requirements."** **"With your methods, the bare minimum would be Css 2, Level 50."**

  That’s just how she is.

  Which is why I’m trying to persuade her with reason.

  **"That’s—"** **"You can’t do it immediately, right?"** **"No. Even with Lady Nell’s help, it would take at least a year—no, two years."**

  In this world’s common sense, leveling is dangerous and grueling.

  And without knowing about EXBP, there’s no way to efficiently train skill proficiency.

  That creates a vicious cycle where only a select few—those with exceptional pyer skills or the power and status to afford the time—can grow.

  So I understand Ingrid-san’s response.

  **"To be honest, Nell offered to help because there’s a way to drastically shorten that time."** **"Is that—"** **"Using it, we could get you there in a month."**

  Then, with a move like flipping the board, I negated her answer.

  **"I suppose His Grace the Duke wanted you to know about this, huh?"**

  Immediately after, I slump back in my chair, sighing.

  Thinking about what they want, what’s most effective—it’s exhausting.

  **"Honestly, more than the danger of your level, the bigger reason is I don’t want you knowing what we’re doing."**

  As a person, I don’t dislike Ingrid-san.

  In fact, I respect her.

  She manages the house without compint, and thanks to her skills, her cooking is delicious.

  The quiche she made during the supply shortages after the Stampede—I’d love to eat it again.

  She’s diligent, serious, and dedicated to her work.

  Seeing that up close, I know she’s not a bad person.

  The problem isn’t Ingrid-san.

  I’m not refusing out of spite.

  To put it bluntly, with a little extra effort, we could achieve what we’re pnning even at her current level.

  The real issue is the person behind her.

  **"...Is it because I’m nobility?"** **"Frankly, yes."**

  No need to hide it this time.

  If the nobility—especially the Duke’s house—learned about our leveling methods, what would happen?

  Yeah, the thought alone is sickening. The power bance in this world would shatter.

  While others grind through conventional leveling, our method creates a gap so vast it’s horrifying.

  If that power consolidated under one ruler? Yeah, hello, dictatorship.

  In this world, higher levels mean near-immortality.

  **"Don’t get me wrong—we all trust you. We think you’re a good person and would love to keep working with you."**

  Ingrid-san seems to understand the reason, as she doesn’t argue.

  She can only nod with a bitter smile.

  The real danger isn’t the Edelgard family—it’s the other three ducal houses, or all of them, getting their hands on this method.

  Worst-case scenario? If even one house acquires it, I’d be killed—or at best, imprisoned and tortured to death.

  And if all the ducal houses get it? The southern continent would plunge into war.

  **"But this is something I just can’t share."**

  This knowledge is tied directly to my strength.

  If I expined it to her like I did with Nell and Amina, and she grasped its value—what would she do?

  It’s not hard to guess.

  She’d report it to her father or the client behind this request.

  She might stay silent if I asked.

  But that would mean betraying the Duke.

  Frankly, dealing with a smooth-talking spy would’ve been easier—at least then, I wouldn’t have to hold back.

  **"Is there no way?"** **"No. If I told you, you’d feel obligated to report it to His Grace. Given what I foresee, I can’t share it without a binding vow of secrecy."**

  Maybe they’re counting on me slipping up out of sentimentality.

  **"The Duke and I are technically allies. But if you asked whether we trust each other enough to share everything—no, we don’t. There’s a lot we keep from each other."**

  If that’s the case, should I call it dirty noble tactics?

  Or maybe sending an amateur like her instead of a real spy was their way of showing sincerity.

  **"And I’m the one with fewer cards to py."**

  I can’t read the ducal family’s intentions, so honestly, I’m stuck on how to handle Ingrid-san.

  **"Some things just have to stay hidden."** **"......"**

  That’s why, for now, I need to buy time—until we’re strong enough that no one can touch us.

  Then, we can gradually spread the knowledge and normalize our training methods.

  ...Yeah, when I say it like that, it sounds like an absurdly grand pn.

  No, more like a half-baked, patchwork idea.

  It reeks of procrastination.

  Ingrid-san stays silent after my *"I have secrets, but I can’t tell you"* line.

  Of course.

  If anything, the fact that she doesn’t snap at me shows incredible restraint.

  **"A vow, then."** **"Huh?"**

  A few seconds pass before the silence breaks.

  I wait, not even sipping the water, wondering what she’ll say—then she hits me with *"vow."*

  **"If I vow never to disclose this information to anyone—would you tell me then?"**

  It takes me a few seconds to process her words.

  **"......"** **"What do you think?"**

  Maybe interpreting my silence as agreement, or maybe just sensing my hesitation, she presses on.

  If she’s willing to make such a vow, I wouldn’t mind sharing.

  Nell and Amina kept their promises without formal agreements.

  But that’s because no one’s watching them yet, and the nature of what I’m hiding is still unclear.

  Now that the ducal family is involved, we can’t afford to be careless.

  But with just kids on our side, our options are limited.

  We could really use more hands.

  So—

  **"The Gryure family has built its legacy on trust and credibility. Throughout our history, we’ve prided ourselves on never breaking our word—even against higher houses."**

  Someone trustworthy, who keeps promises—I’d kill for that right now.

  **"In other words, I’m confident in my discretion. My expression should tell you that much."** **"Uh—"** **"This is where you’re supposed to ugh."**

  Her sudden attempt at humor leaves me at a loss.

  I can’t even fake a ugh.

  **"The people you’d be up against are far above your family, you know?"** **"I suspected as much, given who sent me."** **"If this gets out, it’ll be a disaster."** **"My orders are to monitor you. While I’m obligated to report what I see and hear, frankly, as long as you don’t flee this city, I can keep secrets indefinitely."**

  *Don’t run, and I’ll stay silent.*

  That offer is dangerously tempting.

  **"Hmm..."**

  Just one more push.

  If there’s something that could convince me, I’d gdly bring her into the fold.

  If this is all an act to gain my trust, I’d need some way to confirm it before giving up.

  Though hesitating like this might be rude to her.

  She did say her family prides itself on trust and credibility.

  Her seriousness must be a point of pride.

  **"If you’re unsure, how about a contract with a third-party witness?"** **"A contract?"**

  Just as I’m considering relenting, Ingrid-san suggests it.

  A contract—like a legal document to enforce secrecy?

  That could work, but—

  **"Would that even matter against nobles?"** **"It would. A contract under the eyes of the gods. No being in this world can interfere with it."** **"Gods?"** **"Yes, the gods. You weren’t aware?"** **"No, I wasn’t."**

  I suppose if a higher power is involved, even nobles can’t argue.

  Back during the duel with Dassé, there was that Duel Piece item—something that didn’t exist in the game.

  **"Is it like the Duel Piece?"** **"Simir. The Duel Piece falls under the jurisdiction of Metehl, the Goddess of Judgment. Contracts belong to Goldos, the God of Commerce. Secrecy vows are under his domain."** **"What happens if you break it?"** **"Trying to forcibly viote a divinely enforced silence? At worst, death."** **"Wait, seriously? That’s okay with you?"**

  During the duel, Dassé writhed in agony from a headache.

  Breaking a divine contract must mean brutal punishment.

  **"It’s not a problem. The Gryure family keeps its promises."**

  Despite the risks, Ingrid-san decres this with unwavering confidence.