Lost In Character: Transmigration Chronicles Of A Nameless Heroine

"You have something to say, soldier?"

Half an hour had passed. Even though there were isolated voices raised in anger and doubt, asking questions and trying to provoke reactions from "the Queen" or from anyone else who was in some way involved, the progress of the procession had thus far been civilized and peaceful.

The scant lighting was making it difficult even for those near each other to distinguish faces, and the people outside the soldiers' lines were largely unsuccessful in distinguishing identities as well. However, the fact that things were going as planned was fraying tattered nerves even more.

Beside Hilde, Inge had been doing his part in protecting her by being vigilant of the crowd's torches. Despite his physical state, he'd literally move faster than the speed of light to either block stray illuminations or adjust Hilde's position itself so her distinguishing features would remain in the shadows.

Yet she couldn't help note that, when checking her face's state of hidden-ness, there were times his stare would linger on it for one or two seconds longer than was strictly necessary.

Caught off guard by her question, Inge flinched and hesitated. In the end, he answered without holding back: "I'm not too big on the lying, Princess." Through the dark's barrier, he met Hilde's eyes squarely. "Not just with this one, with everything. I mean, I know there's need and all, but…" He cleared his throat and asked all of a sudden, "Have you ever wondered why your brother was so unlikable?"

Now it was she who was caught off guard by the question that came from nowhere. What's that got to do with anything?

Her tone wry, she answered indirectly, "Have I ever."

Inge took that as leave to go on. "It's because he let nothing and no one else rule him – to an excessive extent. Even when the Queen was ordering him, sometimes he'd…"

"Go on," Hilde urged, intrigued now.

"There had been times when the Prince disobeyed… because it was not an order he himself would give to others. I believe that that was the inner compass he had followed, Princess. If it was something his conscience would not allow him to ask of anyone else, he wouldn't do it himself, no matter who was asking. Because of that…" Inge paused, and when he continued, his grief could be heard in his voice. "We might not have always liked him, but we fully trusted him."

Several moments of silence passed in which the man composed himself.

Then Hilde broke it. "So Dieter kept to his own truth, allowing no external force to taint it, no matter what." Even before she uttered the next words, she knew she would regret it, but the years of bitterness she'd suffered in her brother's hands had resurged – she couldn't stop herself from saying, "Where is he now?"

Inge's wince of pain doubled the internal lashing she had also inflicted on herself. Sieglind had just been telling her too: if you know you're going to apologize for something later, don't do it in the first place.

"That was low of me," she said in a quiet voice, unable to meet the man's eyes out of overwhelming guilt. "I'm sorry, Inge. I'll think on what you've said."

The column had reached the grand city square by then, and it was just as well that the place was dangerously well lit because Hilde could use that as an excuse to bow her head and stare at the ground.

What was her truth? She was practically begging for a headache by asking that, but she had to, and now was as good a time as any to do it.

When she only knew herself to be Yong Fan Shu, secure in her identity and place in the world, the question was not something that she had ever dwelled on. As a top actress, she could make others believe she was truly the character she was playing. The one thing she could not do was make herself believe she was that person.

Through mysterious but undeniably effective means, after being given all the memories that the real Hilde had acc.u.mulated throughout her short life, her true self had – in the strangest way – also become Hilde.

How could that happen?

How could it not?

Why WOULDN'T you become a copy of someone else when you hold inside your own head everything that had made them who they were?

As if that wasn't messed up enough, through the System's other alchemies, Hilde had somehow also merged with parts of her former identity. The original Hilde already had a foggy sense of self because of her upbringing, and this merger had made that sense even foggier. Critically so.

She was trying with all that she had to remedy that – that was at the bottom of what she was doing now. Hilde might not know who she really was, but right now, she had a very clear idea of who she WANTED to become.

"Fake it until you make it," as the saying went, and the presence of the "objective" had helped ease her conscience about what she believed she must do.

What was character, in the end, but an integrated collection of parts you've knowingly or unknowingly cultivated? If she had to lie about who she was for the time being, so be it. In time, she could and would transform those "lies" into her one unshakable truth.

What mattered most to her was that, ultimately, she was trying to be good.

***

The female captain had sent scouts ahead to look for the most secluded spot where their large party could safely exit. After that, despite the deepening cover of darkness, she led them through the most well-hidden paths available through the city's surrounding forest, which often meant narrow or long or winding, or all of the above at once.

Whispering in their own language, Viscount Renard panted, "Such… thorough… ness…"

"I'd choose thorough over careless any day," Leal replied, his breathing also a little heavy. "Today most especially."

The two men who were ahead in the line heard Baron Marmion exclaim, also in Lysean, "Ahh, my foot! Get your weight off me, woman!"

The tall and wide-set soldier from before said in a conversational tone and volume, "Can we 'lose' this one in the dark and claim it was an accident?"

Ahead of Leal, the captain did not respond.

Acting perhaps in the capacity of an informal lieutenant, it was the third senior soldier who ordered in Arnican, "Shut up." She then continued in unaccented Lysean, "All of you, if you please."

Recognizing that the soldiers were merely as nervous as Baron Marmion, if much better at hiding it, Leal did not take offense on either party. They all had a lot at stake here.

As he let his body function from memory while following the trails their escorts chose, it occurred to Leal that he was surrounded by women who shared his martial interests. Granted, the youngest of these had probably been recruited during the last war nearly a decade ago, meaning they were all much older than he was. But as for not letting his face dictate their feelings and behavior towards him, they had that down pat.

Thus, he had to wonder, did he also find them attractive for it? The age gap actually didn't bother him. In the end, though, the answer was still no.

He did respect them – they earned that much for sticking with the army despite the kind of treatment they seemed to be receiving. They could always leave. In fact… well, many would be wanting them to do just that, wouldn't they?

He smiled. He had to assume, then, that they had a very good reason for doing the exact opposite of what certain others wanted.