Chapter 122 Regalia
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The air around us began to hum with a restless energy. This was no ordinary encounter; it was an anomaly. From what I could see, no other boy had been singled out like us. It was a personal summons to the debutante stage of high society. The weight of the collective gaze was suffocating.
”Judging by your attire, you haven’t been in the Imperial Capital¹ long,” the woman said. “I shall gift you a proper suit; see that you learn the ceremonies by the appointed day.”
The woman who had appeared behind us, draped in opulence, fixed her eyes on me. She wore a smile that was as calm as it was terrifyingly confident.
”Uh… I mean… well…” I stammered.
She looked as though she’d just stepped out of a state function, a crimson sash crossing her chest. Her hair was swept up in a regal, sophisticated Queen’s style. It was strikingly simple compared to her gown, as if she intended for the clothes to be the protagonist of the scene, rather than herself. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from that Italian-style stage dress. It was a masterpiece of volume from the waist down – a garment that a tailor must have spent years on, needle by agonizing needle, layering jewels, fur, and beads into a tapestry of myth and local history. It was an artistic triumph; a literal walking painting. I remembered seeing something like it once, back at a Venetian merchant’s stall…
”Well then, I shall look forward to the day our paths cross again,” she said.
Her tone was mild, yet it carried the absolute certainty of one who has never known the word “no!” She radiated the unmistakable aura of true authority, never for a second doubting that her word was law. With that, she closed the matter. The crowd began to simmer with envy, shooting jagged looks of jealousy my way. In that moment, my fate was sealed. It was over. She didn’t so much as glance my way to check if I agreed. The only path left for me was to offer the mandatory thanks and politely mirror her anticipation.
”Duke Iwasaki², pray do not rush so; you’ll frighten the young gentleman,” an attending woman said.
As I stood frozen, unable to find the words for such a titan, the attendant intervened, sensing my distress.
”Perhaps the gentleman is unaware of who Your Grace is?” the attendant asked.
”Oh? My, I must apologize for the sudden intrusion,” Duke Iwasaki replied. “I found your conversation so fascinating I simply couldn’t help myself. But truly… you don’t know who I am? Is that so?”
As I managed a weak nod, the woman in her glittering finery looked genuinely taken aback. She posed another question, her curiosity piqued.
”Then am I to understand you didn’t come to our firm today out of an interest in the social circles?” she asked.
”I just came for a look around. I’m sorry, I really didn’t know who you were,” I said.
”Just a look around, you say?”
”I wanted to see the clockwork of how this city functions. To be honest, I have zero interest in high society or banquets,” I explained.
”Ha! Marvelous. Truly. Please, continue your tour until you are quite satisfied,” Duke Iwasaki said.
A flash of genuine delight crossed her face, her every movement exuding a natural, brilliant majesty. She didn’t seem to care a whit about my lack of decorum.
”I am but a humble merchant named Iwasaki. Her Majesty has entrusted me with the logistics of the Capital. As I said, I enjoy inviting the youth to my home to hear their perspectives. May I have the pleasure of your company?” she asked.
”N-no, I’m really not the type,” I replied quickly. “I’m just a failure of a human. I get stage fright and mess everything up. I’ve never even been to a proper tea party, let alone a banquet. I don’t know the first thing about manners.”
”It seems your heart is truly set on the work of women, then. There is no need for such modesty,” she said.
”No, really. My being here today was a total fluke,” I insisted.
”The first step is always the hardest. Do you truly find the idea so distasteful?” she asked.
”It’s not that it’s distasteful, it’s just… I’m sure your other guests wouldn’t be happy to have me there,” I said.
I was sweating now. My desperate attempts to decline were only making her like me more. This woman, clearly holding a high-ranking peerage, was the shadow boss of this entire distribution empire. Duke Iwasaki. There are only five Dukes in all of Japan. She was a member of the highest tier of the aristocracy.
The reason I avoided the financial elite in the Capital wasn’t just because big shots are scary or that the snobbery of the upper crust rubbed me the wrong way. If you get tangled up with these ultra-wealthy nobles, you eventually get paraded in front of their relatives, married off, or kept as a “consort” – reborn as a high-society trophy. You get the mansion and the estate for free, sure, but your life becomes a duty of hosting honored guests and attending endless parties. It’s the “Jade Marriage³” everyone dreams of.
But for me, the perks were a nightmare. “The duty to inspire the maidens of Japan, a merit equal to male labor, thereby granting exemption…” That was the trap. Once you reach that level, you’re exempt from the duty of sleeping with common women. Society protects high-status husbands from physical labor to prevent stress-induced collapse. In other words, I’d be locked into the “Reverse Chastity World Idol⁴” route. I’d be a national treasure, a pretty face on every magazine cover, living a life of hollow luxury. I’d be a brand, my own will discarded. My only value would be as a biological donor.
Sex is the burden of the low-status male. Give me the blue-collar life any day!
I did my absolute best to project that sentiment through my refusal. It was a ruthless campaign of self-sabotage. I didn’t care if she looked down on me, as long as I didn’t get “promoted” into her world.
”Look, I’m just a country bumpkin. It’s absurd for someone like you, Duke-sama, to even notice me,” I muttered.
”Enough. I see now that you are a man of profound modesty,” she said with a graceful, teasing smile. “But you misunderstand me; I have no intention of forcing you. Though, too much humility can start to sound like a slight, you know?”
Sensing my genuine panic, she tried to put me at ease. She had a way of making you feel comfortable despite her power. I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I could feel a faint, mysterious aura radiating from her garments. Her presence was immense… just how many years had she spent at the top?
”And what about you?” Duke Iwasaki asked, turning to my companion. “I’m hosting a gathering for the youth who care about the future of the Empire. It might be dull for a gentleman of your standing, but are you interested in the social arts?”
Tokumasa-kun, suddenly in the spotlight, snapped to attention.
”N-no, ma’am!” he cried. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting a place where women discuss the fate of the nation. I’m just here to study the duties of women. The Capital is full of wonders, but this office was what I wanted to see most.”
His face was like stone from the tension. Being a Duke meant she sat at the pinnacle of a global conglomerate. One word from her could end lives, erase cities, and redraw the maps. Unlike me, he knew exactly how much power she held.
”A diligent student, I see. Keep at your studies. I shall remember those words,” Duke Iwasaki said.
”…Thank you, Your Grace,” Tokumasa-kun replied.
The Duke looked thoroughly satisfied. Of course, he was just as desperate as I was; he wasn’t about to let social obligations eat into his hobby time. The subtext of the exchange was clear. This invitation was for a political salon, and the role expected of us was to be the pretty flowers in the room.
They didn’t actually want our opinions. In this world, men are seen as emotional creatures, unable to see the big picture or think beyond their own immediate whims. Some even think we’re happier when everyone else is miserable. So, the job is to sit there, look pretty, and act impressed by the women’s brilliant conversation. Do that, and you live in silk.
Keep your mouth shut and your legs open. That was the unspoken creed of the noblewomen.
”And you? Has your mind changed now that you know my inclinations?” Duke Iwasaki asked, her eyes back on me.
”I don’t really get it, and I’m honestly not interested,” I said.
”Another modest answer. You certainly know your place.”
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. She was actually impressed by my “stupid” reply. In her eyes, I was just an innocent, harmless boy without a spark of independent thought—the perfect, gentle pet. The absolute worst thing I could have done was try to act smart or talk politics.
Satisfied with our modesty, the Duke finally moved on. She turned her attention to the other boys, and soon a wall of people formed around her. As I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding, Tokumasa-kun poked me in the ribs.
”You handled that like a pro! Nice one!” he whispered.
”You too. Look, I’m just not built for banquets and dresses. I probably looked like a total moron to her, though,” I said.
”Man, the Imperial Guards already think I’m just a sneaky little brat. I had to lean into the ‘stupid’ act. But you? You were a natural from the second she spoke!” Tokumasa-kun laughed.
”Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
We shared a laugh, giddy with the relief of having survived a brush with the apex predator of the business world. Around us, the other boys looked at us with sneers – convinced we were fools for throwing away a chance at the big leagues. From a distance, the Duke continued to eye the prospects who had come for the tour.
It was clear now: the workplace tour was just a front. This was a scouting ground for the upper class. Throughout the Capital, the powerful set up these little hunting parties to find pretty playthings, while the men and women below watched for every chance to sell themselves. Surrounded by a bevy of other noblewomen, the room quickly dissolved into the chaotic, predatory atmosphere of a high-stakes meat market.
New faces continued to stream into the venue. Somewhere along the way, I had inadvertently drifted into the heart of the scouting grounds.
A handful of boys were currently snapping at Duke Iwasaki⁵. They were high on the rhetoric that noble males were the rightful architects of the world and that females existed only to follow their lead. It was an exercise in pure idiocy. Yet, despite their vitriol, she looked genuinely amused. Even when the words are biting, the mere act of conversing with a male is the ultimate solace for a female in this world. Their selfishness, their misplaced arrogance-it all somehow transmutes into a heady, sigh-inducing sensuality. In this society, no matter how a male struggles, he is destined to be an object of adoration.
She seemed to be relishing the attention, surrounded by a vibrant bouquet of suitors ranging from model students like Tokumasa-kun to “dim-witted” types like myself, and even a few rebellious boys in the throes of their teenage defiance. She traded barbs with a particularly combative boy, a brilliant smile on her face.
”Honestly, I think she only maintains her status because she loves these social mixers that much,” I muttered.
Being discovered by the titans of the zaibatsu⁶ carries a weight far beyond simple wealth. You become a national icon-a billboard sent out to show everyone exactly what a chaste Japanese gentleman should look like. You are revered by the masses and envied by your peers. Your ego gets a massive hit of dopamine, all without having to worry about people just being after your body. It is a value system for a tier of males living in a completely different world than mine, but I suppose dedicating your life to that goal isn’t a bad thing.
As Tokumasa-kun and I were killing time over tea at our table, I found myself being hit on by a relentless parade of noblewomen. Everyone in this room was essentially a satellite orbiting the Duke’s influence.
”The public yearns for a figure of romantic, fated nobility. They yearn for you,” one woman said. “I am captivated by the brilliance of the talent lying dormant within you-a veritable gemstone. Please, do not be afraid. Take my hand.”
”I’m honored, but I must respectfully decline,” I replied.
That one was a representative from a cosmetics giant. They wanted my face on their packaging as an “image character.”
Not a chance. If I start down that road, my nightly duties-the most vital part of my life-would be stripped away. I turned them down. My Imperial Guard⁷ would probably be ecstatic if I had accepted, but to me, this woman was a demon wearing the mask of a goddess of fortune.
”It’s more than I deserve. No, thank you,” I said.
I spit to the side in disgust. Get lost, vermin.
”You are so different from the arrogant, beautiful roses of the Imperial Court,” another woman whispered. “How could I possibly leave the world’s most noble flower to bloom unnoticed in the countryside? I want to unveil your beauty to the world.”
”Then please, let your kindness guide you to leave me be-like a wildflower by the road,” I said. “Don’t pluck me just to put me in a vase. It’s precisely because I’m not ‘arranged’ that I look so vibrant in your eyes, isn’t it?”
”How tragic. Should you change your mind, please contact me,” she said.
”I won’t,” I replied.
What a jinx. If I got tangled up with her, the real maggots would never leave me alone. Though, if she had asked for nightly duties, I might have considered it. Anything else was a hard pass.
”If you change your mind, feel free to bring your friend as well,” she added.
”We aren’t coming,” I said.
She left behind an invitation to the State Guest House-some gala at a Western-style mansion in a hyper-elite district.
”Man, you really have those lines ready to go, don’t you?” Tokumasa-kun remarked.
”I’ve been getting hit with those same pick-up lines so much lately I just memorized the counters,” I said. “You never know what life skills are going to come in handy.”
Apparently, word had spread among the nobility that I was the “tragic heroine” of that recent kidnapping scandal. That explained the sudden popularity. Now that I had finally shown my face in public, the recruiters were swarming. Even the persistence of Duke Iwasaki made more sense now.
While Tokumasa-kun and I were trying to enjoy the peace, a trio of local headaches appeared.
”Well, look what the cat dragged in. A bit underdressed for the occasion, aren’t we?” Dora-kun said. “Tell me, ‘Mister Fragile Beauty,’ you seem to have grown quite a pair while we weren’t looking.”
”Oh, hey Dora-kun. Sakura-kun, Hinata-kun-long time no see. You guys doing okay?” I asked.
”Hmph. To snub Duke Iwasaki of all people… you really are a moron,” Dora-kun said. “I’m going to make sure everyone hears about this. Your chances of a proper social debut are officially dead.”
The high-and-mighty brat started laying into me without missing a beat.
”I’m not really worried about a debut, but thanks,” I said.
”Did you think playing hard-to-get would inflate your stock? You’ve made a fatal move,” Dora-kun snapped. “I’m going to make sure there’s no coming back from this.”
Still as fearless as ever, I see. I hadn’t dealt with Dora-kun since elementary school, but he didn’t even bother with a greeting before trying to flex on me. With his two lackeys in tow, he was itching for a fight. It looked like I was about to be put in my place.
It felt exactly like running into the local punks back home. Why is it that these bullies always travel in threes?
He pulled out a pipe designed for adult males and took a puff. He coughed, then blew a cloud of smoke directly into my face.
Stinks. I had my doubts about a kid his age smoking, but we live in a world without the concepts of underage smoking or indoor bans. The nostalgic sight of men sharing a light was still a reality here.
”I’ve heard the fairy tales. You? The sickly kid? Putting in work during the war?” Dora-kun asked. “Give me a break. If you’ve got proof, let’s see it.”
”Fine,” I said.
I reached out and snapped his pipe in half with a sharp crack.
”Wh… what the hell?!” Dora-kun screamed. “That’s a custom import! Do you have any idea what that cost?!”
”Sorry. Reflex,” I said. “My hands just sort of do that now. Usually, this is the quickest way to get a guy to listen-most people get the hint when things start breaking.”
The cold aura of a psychopath began to radiate from me.
”By the way, copper pipes are toxic. You shouldn’t put your mouth on them,” I added.
”The weight of the metal is the whole point, you idiot! Not that a country bumpkin would understand quality!” Dora-kun yelled.
”I mean, I don’t smoke, so I can’t really argue the finer points of tobacco… but didn’t we grow up in the same neighborhood?” I asked.
Ignoring Tokumasa-kun, who was currently losing it with laughter, I reached for the pipes held by the other two.
”Let me show you that ‘proof’ one more time. I’ll make yours unusable too,” I said quietly. “Don’t worry, I’m not holding a grudge about the school bullying. This is an act of… kindness.”
My eyes went flat. Terrified, the two lackeys scrambled away. It’s the classic trope: the bully confronts the old victim at a reunion, only to realize the victim spent the interim learning how to break people.
I’ll just tell myself I was looking out for their health. Though, I can’t deny there was a little bit of petty spite mixed in.
”Dammit! You’re paying for that pipe, Aoyama! Mark my words!” Dora-kun shouted. “Where the hell is she? I’m not staying in the same room as this freak. My business here is done. We’re leaving!”
Dora-kun wasn’t entirely broken, though. He stomped off, shoulders squared, searching for his Imperial Guard. He was the type where anger always outstripped fear-a real stubborn brat.
For the record, Yukari-san was currently being detained by the Tokko⁸ because of my earlier antics. I’d peeked in on her with my Psionic Power; she was in the middle of an interrogation, trying to flip the script by offering to teach the officers “the secret to winning over men” in exchange for a bribe. My master and servant duo are nothing if not resilient.
Dora-kun kept wandering around, looking for a girl who wasn’t going to show up anytime soon.
* * *
The social mixer finally drew to a close. I hadn’t secured a social debut, but in exchange, I was about to experience something far more valuable than a stuffy banquet.
Normally, the tour was supposed to transition into a formal dinner at a different location. However, Duke Iwasaki-apparently struck by the “quaint curiosity” displayed by Tokumasa-kun and myself-decided to grant a select few a glimpse into the company’s most vital facilities.
Instead of the dinner party, I headed for the factory. A dozen or so boys left the office, boarding jinrikishas⁹ to descend the slopes of Ueno and head toward a massive complex nestled in the lowlands of Shitaya.
Escorted by guards, we passed through a series of heavily reinforced gates. We were subjected to multiple pat-downs along the way. Some of the boys, finding the security a chore or simply hating the idea of being touched by female guards, gave up and turned back. They headed off to rejoin the Duke’s dinner party.
The factory grounds were ringed with fences and watchtowers, looking more like a foreign military garrison than a place of business. The deeper we went, the higher the temperature climbed.
Inside a drab, gray building, we bypassed layer after layer of firewalls and security checkpoints.
It was sweltering-a total sauna. But when we stepped through the final set of massive doors, we found ourselves in a hall with a ceiling that seemed to touch the sky.
At the far end of the room, a colossal glass vessel was bolted into place. It stood nearly thirty meters tall. Two massive conduits, wide enough for a man to walk through, were joined to the vessel, snaking across the room before diving beneath the floorboards.
The glass emitted a blinding radiance. Something was suspended inside the fluid-filled tank. It was long, slender, and wreathed in flame-a ten-meter-long shard of light that defied the eyes, burning brilliantly beneath the water.
It looked like a jagged rift of pure white space, hovering in the deep.
”Thank you for making the trip,” the technician said. She was already slick with sweat. “This is the heart of our operations: an ultra-heavy-duty pumping engine.”
”This is a non-displacement water induction facility, a joint venture between the Holland Public Corporation and our own heavy industries,” she continued. “Her name is Toyotama-hime¹⁰-the Fire-Burned Maiden. Suspended within the housing is a German mystical artifact: Svarog¹¹, the Eternal Flame of Old Eastern Europe. Our company brought it to Japan as part of a national strategic initiative.”
I squinted, trying to make out the shape within the glass. The flame was rod-like, standing perfectly vertical, tapering into a razor-sharp point at the tip.
”The housing is pressurized with Hyakkan Water,” the technician explained. “The fluid may appear stagnant, but it is actually being propelled in a single direction at extreme velocities.”
The radiant object drifted silently in the depths.
”Svarog is an eternal, double-edged greatsword of flame,” she said. “In this pressure-control chamber-the very pulse of the Imperial Capital’s logistics-we use it to superheat the Hyakkan Water, generating the pressure required to maintain the flow. The Toyotama-hime’s capacity, both in volume and pressure-head, is unmatched anywhere in the world. At normal operating levels, her output generates a displacement equivalent to the force required to drive five dreadnought battleships at full speed.”
This was a gargantuan pump station.
And the fuel boiling the water was a sword fit for a giant. It looked as if a weapon belonging to the gods of myth had somehow, by some terrible mistake, found its way into the hands of men.
I had the crushing realization that I was witnessing something truly monstrous. Even at this distance, the heat felt like a physical weight, as if my face were being scorched against the surface of a glass kiln. It was the primal terror of standing on a volcanic lip. Something that demanded awe – something to be dreaded – lay pulse-beating right before my eyes.
I couldn’t bring myself to step any closer. I didn’t even want to try.
The boys who had followed me this far were all catching their breath in ragged gasps. Within a transparent glass pillar, a blade of flame many times the height of a man burned without a single bubble, heating the water and driving it forward in a relentless, silent surge.
”Why is it burning underwater?” I asked one of the staff. “There’s no air, no fuel… it looks like it’s burning out of nothing.”
”Logic has no place here,” the staff member replied, blinking away the beads of sweat that had gathered on his lashes. “It simply continues to burn.”
He shifted, the scent of oil and scorched air clinging to his tanned skin. “The combustion is independent of the surrounding environment. This Hyakkan Water ¹², having reached a superheated state, is flushed through the arteries of the city. The steam explosions within the katsusou – the pistons – generate the mechanical kinesis required to maintain the current.”
”Pistons… right. I see,” I said.
”Oh? You were aware of the mechanics?” the worker asked, looking pleased. He seemed genuinely happy that I was biting. It must be rare for a male to show such interest in the guts of the infrastructure.
”Furthermore,” he continued, “a portion of the thermal energy is diverted to the heat exchangers beneath the surface. Think of the Imperial Capital as one vast heating element. A web of boiling veins flows under the ground, keeping the surface warm throughout the year.”
I could smell the oil and his sun-darkened skin, but the explanation barely registered. The sheer, violent presence of the flame was all-consuming. After a while, we all stood there, drenched in sweat, silently praying for the lecture to end.
The Hishime-Hayame-no-Mikoto ¹³ was more than a pump station; it was a massive containment facility. The flame-blade itself had been imported from Germany. Deep within the Sacrament of Arkona ¹⁴ – a dungeon on the Baltic island of Rügen – they had unearthed Svarog ¹⁵. There is only one such blade in the world. A demon sword, in the truest sense of the word.
It was a weapon of war. They say that during the Great War, there were men capable of wielding it by hand. The most infamous was a commander of an SS unit, men who wore military uniforms adorned with the death’s head. He moved through the front lines like a jagged streak of fire, reducing everything to ash. After plunging enemy soldiers into total fear, he would always sear a Hakenkreuz into the very earth of the battlefield. They say he burned hundreds of thousands to death alone. Japan, as a military ally, had traded one of its own national treasures to bring this horror here.
This was only Unit 1. A second, higher-output device also existed.
Unit 2 was called the Horin ¹⁶ – the Dharma Wheel – a gear-shaped power machine. Its role was to drive the heavy construction equipment and transport systems on the surface. The Horin was powered by a different, priceless mystical object seized from an enemy nation during the war. Together, they functioned as a redundant system; if one failed, the city would endure. Since both relied on unique, irreplaceable artifacts, they could never be rebuilt if lost.
Having been thoroughly flexed on by the Zaibatsu’s economic might, we finally pulled back from the factory, weary of the oppressive heat. To be honest, everyone was terrified of that Svarog. Even without malicious intent, being near a relic of that power wears on the nerves. Even I, a Psionic user who had grown somewhat accustomed to such things, felt mentally drained. While the other boys began to obsess over the luxury this mystery-tech could provide, I could only think of the pressure of it.
Except for Iwasaki Tokumasa-kun. He was in high spirits, running through the facility and nearly burning himself on the glass, much to the staff’s amusement. We parted ways after I promised to meet him for tea and resume our letters.
As I headed home, skipping the banquet, a staff member secretly stopped me. “Duke Iwasaki has granted you special consideration,” he whispered. “Please, follow me.”
He led me into a side corridor, hidden from the others. “The Imperial Capital has two hearts,” the official said softly. “The Hishime-Hayame-no-Mikoto is but the smaller one. I have been instructed to show Your Lordship the other.”
”I can’t possibly repay this kind of favor,” I said. “If I accept this, do I have to attend the banquet?”
”There is no public agenda, I assure you,” the official replied. “The Duke simply holds sincere sympathy for the disasters Your Person has faced. He hoped this might offer a moment’s consolation.”
”Well, if that’s the case,” I said. It seemed I had become quite the celebrity. I followed him, knowing that refusing such a “kindness” would only cause friction.
We descended into the bowels of the Capital. Looking down from high catwalks, I saw a sea of unhealthy-looking workers in filthy clothes, covered in dirt and oil. The stench was overwhelming. They were skeletal, surrounded by rusted pipes and iron frames, laboring under the hiss of steam while supervisors struck them with rods. It felt like a colonial tour for a noble. The underground was a living hell.
We went deeper. The mine-like corridors eventually gave way to something surreal.
We emerged into a vast, hollow void. It was immense and pitch black. The ground simply vanished into a Flatty ¹⁷ – a pit with no visible bottom. The staff member clicked on a lamp, casting a thin, orange beam across a narrow path that spanned the darkness like a bridge.
”It’s a bit steep,” he cautioned.
I walked the narrow line like a tightrope. Below the cliff lay an eternal abyss. My only security was the metal handrail and the rope cinched around my waist. In the darkness, massive brass gears floated, meshing together to drive conveyors of rock and soil. A single slip would mean a fall into the teeth of the machines.
”I didn’t know such a space existed,” I muttered, gripping the rail. “To think all this came from a man’s selfishness. Women really have it rough.”
The official, dressed in a far finer suit than the previous guide, gave a soft denial. “I appreciate the sentiment, but that is a common misunderstanding,” he explained.
”Is it?” I asked. “I heard the roads vanished because they hated cars, so they dug up the ground.”
”That was a factor,” the official said, “but the logistics network moved underground because of a specific trigger. After the war, the Capital was a mess of locomotives and mystical vehicles. There were hand-signalers on every corner and the town was choked with soot.”
”Everyone using different vehicles? Sounds dangerous,” I said.
”It was,” he replied. “There were many accidents. We tried to fix it with automatic signals in Ueno, but the real change came after the tragedy. A train carrying many nobles and high-ranking officials collided head-on with a Dungeon Door ¹⁸ that manifested directly on the tracks.”
”Wait, that’s…”
”There was no way to stop a train at full speed,” he said quietly. “And since a Dungeon Door cannot be broken or moved by any power, the result was horrific. After that, we realized that Doors only appear in empty spaces. They never appear inside a pipe filled with water. By filling our transport routes with high-density liquid, we ensured the dungeons could never take root there.”
They had cleared the “unsightly” poor and the standard tech from the surface to create a tourist paradise, hiding the blood and the gears in the one place the monsters couldn’t reach. The city was built on a foundation of density – and death.
We were now standing inside the Horin.
Enormous brass gears, thirty feet in diameter, shrieked and groaned in the twilight. Thousands of parts meshed from the ceiling to the abyss below, pulsing like the clockwork of the stars.
”This isn’t inside a dungeon, is it?” I asked.
The official smiled gently. “No, Your Lordship. It is much older than that.”
Clang. Clang. Clank.
Gears like those of some ancient, gargantuan clock swayed in the darkness. Every so often, a thunderous boom shuddered through the cavern as something shifted-a heavy, tectonic transition that echoed off the stone walls.
Overhead, a phalanx of machinery-titan-class gears accompanied by a swarm of smaller cogs-moved like a pod of whales trailed by feeder fish. They locked onto a new spindle with a metallic roar, connecting to a mechanical scheme that looked to weigh dozens of tons. The teeth meshed perfectly, beginning a new rotation. A terrifyingly immense power was being generated there, channeled away to some unknown part of the city.
This movement repeated across the entire sky of the vault. The gears sang a constant, grinding song, like the rustle of pampas grass in an autumn field. It was a scene of such geometric mystery that I would have believed anyone who told me this was the very engine room of the universe.
”The Sovereign Wheel doesn’t use water,” the official said. “It’s a simple, if monotonous, pulley system. The gears you see above are all driven by its power.”
At the staff member’s urging, I sat on a polished brass pedestal. For the next twenty minutes, we glided through the midair on a cable-car system, cutting through the golden darkness of the central shaft.
”The machine room is just ahead,” the official noted. “Watch your step.”
”Thank you,” I replied.
We navigated a labyrinth of golden shadows before reaching our destination. Eighty percent of the Imperial Capital’s power was generated here. It was the heart of the city. Like the Svarog unit, it was powered by a “Mystical Object”-a relic that simply could not be replaced by modern science.
A chill ran down my spine. I could feel it: the presence of something possessing a power so vast it defied the imagination.
As we entered the chamber, I saw metal components spiraling inward, drawn toward a central point like stars being sucked into a black hole. Shafts converged in a tightening helix, and at the very center of it all sat a small, upright ring.
”The wheel… it’s actually turning,” I muttered.
This was the source-the origin point for every shaft in the facility. Compared to the massive scale of the room, it was unbelievably small.
The drive-wheel that operated eighty percent of the Imperial Capital Machine Facility¹⁹ was barely three meters in diameter. It didn’t look like a machine at all; it looked like a simple, unadorned silver bracelet.
Inside that shimmering silver ring, a young girl was chasing a small black piglet.
I was reminded of a game I’d seen kids play abroad, where they’d run along a street rolling a hoop with a stick. But this girl wasn’t on the outside-she was running along the inner curve, driving the rotation from within. It was surreal. Even though I could see her face, my mind couldn’t quite seem to process her features.
She ran in total silence, round and round.
The young shadow moved with a light, dancing step, pursuing the piglet. As she ran, the wheel turned.
”A Mystical Object captured by Hinomoto²⁰ during the Great War,” the official said, his voice tinged with a hint of dread. “A Regalia classified among the highest of the high…”
”…The Goddess of the Silver Wheel, Arianrhod²¹.”
It was a hamster wheel. A god-sized hamster wheel.
This tiny three-meter artifact gave power and meaning to everything in this cavern. The heavy clamps attached to the wheel fed into the shafts, which connected to the gears, which sent the Goddess’s strength into the outside world. The “outside world” meant every gear we had passed on our way in-and every piece of machinery on the surface.
”This is the source? Just this?” I asked. “How much power is she putting out?”
Everything else in this facility was just an afterthought. Their only role was to catch the power she generated.
”We don’t know,” the official replied.
”You don’t know?”
”Humanity doesn’t currently possess the technology to stop Arianrhod’s wheel once it starts. We have no idea how much resistance it would take to actually bring it to a halt.”
The official spoke with absolute certainty.
Arianrhod would not stop. No matter how much friction you applied, the brakes would fail. Even if the strongest men in the world grabbed it, or if you piled the weight of a mountain on top of it, it would keep moving. It turned silently, as if the physical world offered no resistance at all.
The girl wore clothing that looked incredibly ancient. Her loincloth fluttered as she chased the cute little black piglet, nearly tripping over her own feet in her excitement. The piglet played along, leading her on a merry chase. Sometimes she’d catch it and press it to her chest, petting it affectionately.
In those few seconds, all the power in the city stopped.
Then the piglet would squirm free, and the girl would be off again. Her running was the sole source of the rotation. She was running against hundreds of millions of tons of mechanical resistance-forces that should have crushed a mountain-and she didn’t even seem to notice the weight.
”The Imperial Capital Machine Facility doesn’t have a power plant,” the official explained. “The Sovereign Wheel provides all the horsepower. Let me give you a more detailed explanation.”
The heavy machinery used in the capital was geared directly into this room. It was essentially a perpetual motion machine. The only limit was the strength of the metal itself. They used Hihi’irokane²²-the strongest mystical metal in Hinomoto-for the driveshafts, and even then, Arianrhod would snap them like twigs if the load wasn’t managed.
The Goddess turns the silver wheel; the world follows. The Imperial Capital was basically a city-sized music box.
”Would you like to try running inside?” the official asked.
”Is that okay?”
”Certainly. Please, enjoy yourself.”
I stepped cautiously onto the silver rim. The young girl turned toward me-I think. As I approached, the wheel slowed to a halt. The layers of artificial dampeners groaned as they absorbed the sudden stop.
I stood inside the silver band. It was narrow, barely two meters wide. The girl welcomed me, and we began to trot together.
We chased the piglet together.
”Whoa-wait-” I stammered.
”No need to rush,” the official said.
She seemed to adjust her speed to match mine. For a minute, I ran alongside her inside the wheel. I finally managed to catch the piglet. It nuzzled its snout against my chest.
”Cute…” I whispered.
I stroked its back, but it quickly wiggled out of my arms. I stepped off the wheel and looked back. The faceless girl was already back to her rhythm, chasing the piglet with light, ethereal steps.
”I don’t… I don’t understand any of this,” I muttered.
The mystery was too thick. Who was she? Why did she let me play? I couldn’t even tell if they were really a “girl” and a “piglet,” or just a manifestation of the Regalia’s power.
”What is a Goddess, anyway? Do things like that really exist?”
I watched the chase for a while longer. They didn’t say a word.
”Well,” the official sighed. “Mystical Objects don’t have true names. We just call them what we want. It was the British who named her; they saw a girl and reached for their own myths. When Hinomoto seized this from the Mabinogion²³ dungeon, we kept the name out of respect.”
”Respect? Or irony?” I asked. I imagine the people they took it from are still nursing a grudge.
According to the official, “Goddess” was just a label. No one really knew what she was. Scientists across the world were obsessed with dungeons, yet they were all using technology they didn’t understand. Even a Psionic user like me couldn’t explain how I could lift more than my muscles should allow. We were all just winging it.
I tried to talk to the girl again, but she ignored me. I’ll admit, I got a little over-familiar-I tried to pat her on the rear, and she promptly pinched the back of my hand. When I tried to rub her head, I got a sharp smack for my trouble.
I guess I was getting ahead of myself.
On the way out, riding the elevator powered by Arianrhod-sama’s eternal jogging, I felt a strange sense of gratitude. To the unidentified goddess working the ultimate soul-crushing overtime shift: Thanks for the lift.
I made sure to leave a thank-you note for Duke-sama before heading home.
—
Summary:
The protagonist and Tokumasa-kun encounter Duke Iwasaki, one of Japan’s most powerful noblewomen, during a tour. The Duke attempts to recruit the protagonist into high society, but he uses strategic self-deprecation to avoid being trapped in the ‘Idol Route.’ They both manage to escape the immediate pressure while realizing the tour is actually a predatory scouting ground for the elite.
Aoyama navigates a high-society scouting event where he is pestered by noblewomen and confronted by an old bully, Dora-kun. After effortlessly intimidating his childhood bullies, Aoyama and Tokumasa-kun skip a formal banquet to tour a high-security industrial facility. There, they witness a massive mystical pump powered by ‘Svarog,’ an eternal sword of flame, which powers the capital’s logistics.
He also discovers the city’s infrastructure is built on horrifying wartime relics and a literal hellscape of exploited labor. The protagonist visits the core power facility of the Imperial Capital, discovering that eighty percent of the city’s energy is generated by a ‘Mystical Object’—a girl running in a silver wheel. This girl, named Arianrhod, is a captured artifact from a dungeon that functions as a perpetual motion machine. After a brief, surreal interaction with the girl and her piglet, the protagonist departs with a deeper awareness of the world’s inexplicable mysteries.
—
Trivia:
- Duke Iwasaki is the head of a massive logistics conglomerate.
- There are only five Dukes in the entire country.
- High-status men in this world are exempt from s*xual labor but lose all autonomy.
- The ‘Jade Marriage’ is the reverse-chastity equivalent of a trophy marriage.
- The protagonist specifically desires a ‘blue-collar’ life to maintain his freedom.
- Aoyama’s fame comes from being a ‘kidnapping tragedy’ victim.
- The ‘Imperial Guard’ refers to personal protectors/handlers assigned to him.
- The setting treats female dominance as a standard social solace for men.
- Yukari-san is currently under interrogation by the Tokko but is trying to bribe her way out.
- The factory visit is a special invitation from Duke Iwasaki, not part of the standard tour.
- The flame sword ‘Svarog’ was a German weapon used for mass killing.
- Dungeon Doors cannot appear in high-density substances like water.
- The city layout was a response to a catastrophic train accident.
- The ‘Flatty’ is a bottomless abyss beneath the city containing massive clockwork machinery.
- Arianrhod is actually the name of the Goddess/artifact, not the room.
- Whenever the girl stops to hug the piglet, all power in the city briefly cuts out.
- The protagonist is a Psionic user, which relates to the ‘inexplicable’ power mechanics of the world.
- The artifact was stolen/seized from the British from a dungeon called the Mabinogion.
- The driveshafts are made of Hihi’irokane because standard metals would snap instantly
—
Character Insight:
The protagonist shows high emotional intelligence by realizing that appearing ‘harmlessly stupid’ is the most effective way to repel powerful women who seek control. Tokumasa-kun also reveals a cunning side, using a similar act to protect his leisure time.
Aoyama shows a dark, psychopathic streak when dealing with Dora-kun, revealing that his experiences (possibly during the war) have fundamentally changed his threshold for violence and intimidation. Despite his ‘Mister Fragile Beauty’ label, he is physically and mentally formidable.
The protagonist shows a mix of intellectual curiosity and deep moral repulsion at the Zaibatsu’s methods. Despite being a Psionic user, he is mentally taxed by the spiritual pressure of the relics, highlighting his vulnerability.
The protagonist experiences a mix of awe and irreverence, shifting from being terrified by the mechanical scale to attempting to treat a literal goddess like a casual playmate (earning him a smack).
—
Behind the Scenes:
The ‘Kazoku’ (Peerage) system referenced mirrors Meiji-era Japan but with the gender dynamics completely inverted.
The use of ‘Svarog’ hints at a world where Eastern European mythology is commodified as industrial energy, blending occultism with Taisho-era aesthetics.
The ‘Sacrament of Arkona’ and the Baltic island of Rügen are real-world locations with deep mythological and historical roots.
The name Arianrhod refers to a figure in Welsh mythology often associated with the ‘Silver Wheel’ or the stars, fitting the artifact’s description.
—
TL Notes:
Notes:
• Duke Iwasaki – A high-ranking noble female who manages the scouting venue and zaibatsu interests.
• Iwasaki – Tokumasa Iwasaki. Friendly male student from Nokogiriyama, Tateyama Town. Sun-darkened skin, approachable.
• Tokumasa – Friendly male student from Nokogiriyama, Tateyama Town. Sun-darkened skin, approachable.
• Dora – Antagonistic, older-looking male student with short hair, from an unnamed rural town. Former bully.
• Hinata – Teen, Onjuku heir; mayor’s representative and war commander; very strong psionic user; defensive about being called a cheater; ordered the kidnapping.
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
• Yukari – Dora’s imperial guard, the one who hide in MC’s wardrobe. Twintail. A girl known as the ‘spy girl’ from Inubou-machi with trademark twin-tails, and a small hair whirl (crown of head).
• Tokko – Modified human officer of the Special Higher Police; can shift into a wolf-like state.
• Miko – A lively “garden guard” who reports no attacks in Himawari’s absence and crowds her with the others in playful admiration.
• Arianrhod – An unidentified young girl acting as a Goddess. She wears ancient, primitive garb including a loincloth.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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