I Made a Game Featuring Constellations-Chapter 121

"Woof! Woof!"

Lick!

The moment the carriage door opened, the puppy lunged at [Temperance].

"Ugh!"

Warm, wet licks smeared across her face, and she instinctively scrunched up her nose in displeasure.

"You little—!"

Her attendant, startled, immediately moved to pull the dog away from her.

"Stop. Leave it be."

"...Understood."

[Temperance] restrained her assistant and held the puppy up, gripping its small belly with both hands as she examined it.

A scruffy little mutt.

On any other day, she would have never allowed something so filthy near her.

Keeping something weak and unsightly by her side would make her look vulnerable.

And vulnerability went against everything she had sworn never to be again.

"Master of the trade guild, this is a stray dog. It could be carrying diseases. It’s highly unsanitary."

"...I’m aware."

And yet...

She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Something about its pitiful, abandoned state reminded her of herself—of her friends.

"This one. I’m taking it with me."

She couldn’t leave it behind.

***

Did I... ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ just succeed?

I had lost count of how many times I had repeated this dream, waiting for her to notice me.

I could force her thoughts to shift, just as I did when crafting episodes in the [Akashic Archive].

But that would be wrong.

She had to make the choice naturally—that was the only way to get real results.

Thankfully, after repeating the dream over and over, I had figured out the trick.

I knew how to reset until I got the outcome I wanted.

If I perfected this, I might even be able to apply it to the real world.

Of course, if I could actually control reality like that, we’d be talking about something far beyond just dreams.

"Woof!"

Was that too aggressive?

Playing a dog was harder than I thought.

Every dream world I had created so far was built on real memories.

There had been minor alterations, but I had never fabricated completely new elements.

The [Archive] space, the Curator role—those were minor adjustments.

Even the enemies they faced, unless they were from the Abyss, were figures from their own memories.

Which meant that if I wanted a dog to exist in [Temperance]’s past...

I had no choice but to play the role myself.

...God, this was embarrassing.

Maybe I should have picked a different method.

Being a dog was harder than I expected.

If this failed, I was never going to live this down.

***

Back in the Dream...

Returning to her office, [Temperance] ordered her employees to prepare a proper bath for the puppy.

Dog shampoo, a basin of warm water, the finest towels—everything was arranged.

"You’ve done well. Now, leave me."

"Yes, Master."

Once the staff left, she began washing the puppy herself.

It was covered in grime, practically blackened with filth.

Yet, she wanted to do this herself.

"Woof!"

"Yes, good. Stay still while I wash you."

As the dirt rinsed away, soft, snowy-white fur emerged.

"...Now you’re at least presentable."

She wrapped the pup in an exquisitely soft towel, drying it gently before lifting it into her arms.

It was light.

So frail.

It felt like it would break if she wasn’t careful.

If she hadn’t taken it in, it would have died alone on the streets.

It was too different from what she had strived to become.

"Woof?"

Strength meant never losing anything again.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

This thing embodied weakness—the kind that got everything taken away.

A creature so fragile that it trusted a complete stranger at first sight.

It was...

Pathetic.

So much so that it irritated her.

Grrrnnn

A low rumble came from the puppy’s stomach.

It was starving.

Ding!

She rang the bell to summon her assistant.

"You called for me, Master?"

"Buy some dog food. The best quality available."

"Understood."

It was so weak.

It was everything she despised—a reminder of what she never wanted to be again.

And yet, precisely because of that...

It needed to be protected.

"What is your name...?"

"Woof?"

"...Of course, you wouldn’t have one."

The puppy simply gazed at her with wide, innocent eyes.

She should never have allowed this.

Letting something so helpless into her life was no different from creating another weakness.

But she couldn’t bring herself to push it away.

If she abandoned it now...

It would die.

"Fortit."

Yes. That would do.

A word from an ancient language—meaning strength.

A word she cherished.

"I will make you strong."

"Strong enough to never be defeated. Never be taken from me."

Time passed.

[Temperance] no longer returned to her estate at night.

Instead, she stayed in her office, working and sleeping there.

Ever since Fortit came into her life, she had refused to part from him.

No one outside of her trusted assistant even knew the dog existed.

"Was the coachman handled?"

"Yes. I paid him a generous sum and sent him far away. He won’t talk."

"...Good."

Now, aside from her assistant, no one knew about Fortit.

It’s fine.

No one knows.

No one can use him against me.

She tried to reassure herself, but it wasn’t that simple.

For the first time in a long time, she had something to lose.

And it terrified her.

[Temperance] had always been a rational woman.

But when it came to Fortit, rationality failed her.

The armor of thorns she had wrapped around herself after losing her friends melted in his presence.

Her precious little dog was the only one who could bring out the fragile heart she had buried long ago.

One Day...

A beautifully wrapped bottle of wine sat atop her desk.

"Look at this, Fortit."

She proudly held the bottle up for her dog to see.

"A gift from the Republican Merchant Coalition. Their way of admitting defeat."

Strength was everything.

To show weakness was to be robbed and killed.

She had sunk her teeth into them without mercy, and in the end, even they had given in.

Her resolve hardened further.

[Temperance] removed the cork from the bottle and prepared to pour herself a drink.

Or rather—

She tried to.

"Woof!"

Crash!

The bottle slipped from her grasp, shattering against the floor.

"...Fortit. What do you think you’re doing?"

Not even he was allowed to do this.

This was her trophy of victory, and he had destroyed it.

This wasn’t like him.

He was always so obedient.

So why—?

Frowning, [Temperance] placed her hands on her hips.

"Woof..."

"...Haa. That was dangerous, you know."

But seeing his guilty expression, she couldn’t bring herself to scold him.

"You could have hurt yourself on the glass."

She reached down, gently wiping the wine from his fur.

"Really, what were you—huh?"

That was when she saw it.

A silver tray sitting on her desk.

The very same tray that had caught some of the spilled wine.

The very same tray that was now...

Tarnished.

"...It changed color."

Wine didn’t do that.

Not normal wine.

It only meant one thing.

The bottle had been poisoned.

"Fortit... you saved my life."

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She knelt, stroking her dog’s head as he nuzzled against her.

How had he known?

Had he sensed the danger instinctively?

Had he broken the bottle to protect her?

Fortit was a blessing.

The only blessing she had ever been given.

Her gaze darkened.

"Those bastards..."

The Republican Merchant Coalition.

Her rivals in the trade market.

She had crushed them—and they had tried to kill her for it.

So much for admitting defeat.

She could never forgive them.

If you are weak, you will be taken from.

I will never be robbed again.

They will pay for this.

***

"This isn’t enough, is it?"

Fortit—the kindness that had saved her.

Fortit—the very antithesis of her [Avarice].

I had hoped that by showing her this moment, I could break her [Avarice].

But...

It wasn’t enough.

A dog saving her from poison wasn’t enough to shake her resolve.

I needed something stronger.

Something like...

"Her obsession with strength leading to Fortit’s death."