I Made a Game Featuring Constellations-Chapter 122

[Temperance] sat in her office chair, stroking Fortit, who rested comfortably on her lap.

Her desk was covered with stacks of documents.

Reports gathered from various intelligence guilds—all related to the Republican Merchant Coalition.

"They dared to feign surrender, only to stab me in the back."

She had given them a chance.

But they had spat on it.

There was no room for mercy anymore.

Had it not been for Fortit, she would have suffered a slow and agonizing death.

Or worse.

"If you are weak, you will be taken from. If you retaliate, do so completely."

They had plotted her death because they believed she was weak.

She would return the favor with absolute destruction.

She would make an example of them.

Let no one ever think they could cross her again.

The merchant guild she led was one of the top ten trading powers across the continent.

Destroying a small coalition of traders was trivial.

A single threat was enough to sever every business tie they had.

She manipulated market prices, destabilizing their supply chains.

And when that wasn’t enough—she turned to the underworld.

One by one, their assets crumbled.

One by one, their support collapsed.

But even that wasn’t enough.

She wouldn’t stop until the very name of the Republican Merchant Coalition was erased from history.

Money made anything possible.

She bought out mercenaries, bribed officials, and ensured that no one would interfere.

And then—she made her move.

The vast storage facility was filled with bound merchants, all trembling in fear.

Every last one of them was guilty.

Every last one of them would pay.

"Master of the Trade Guild! Why are you doing this?!"

One of them—the chairman of the Republican Merchant Coalition—cried out.

"We surrendered! We even sent you a gift! If you were going to kill us no matter what, why even pretend?!"

"...Why?"

[Temperance] pressed the heel of her boot against the man’s throat.

"You dare ask me why?"

"Ugh...!"

"You tried to kill me."

"This—This is nonsense! Why would we ever—?!"

"Isn’t it obvious? If I had died, my entire trade empire would have become yours."

"No! No matter the benefits, we would never commit such treachery!"

She narrowed her eyes.

"Then explain why the wine bottle you sent me was laced with poison."

"P-Poison?"

The chairman paled.

"There—There must be some mistake! We would never—!"

She pressed down harder.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"We’re being framed! There is someone else behind this! You’re being used and you don’t even realize it!"

A thought crossed her mind.

What if... they weren’t the ones who poisoned the wine?

Their desperation seemed genuine.

And she had acted too quickly, never considering another culprit.

But it didn’t matter.

Even if they weren’t the real enemy, their fate was sealed.

The world believed they had declared war on her.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

If she let them live now, everyone would see her as weak.

That could never be allowed.

"Begin."

"Yes, Master!"

The mercenaries moved swiftly.

The merchants—beaten and broken—were too weak to resist.

One by one, they were stuffed into massive wooden wine barrels—each one weighted down with heavy stones.

The barrels were sealed shut, the lids nailed down.

"Say your prayers, idiots!"

"You should have begged for your lives while you had the chance!"

The barrels were rolled to the docks—

And tossed into the sea.

One by one—

They sank into the abyss.

Never to be seen again.

A perfect execution.

A flawless act of vengeance.

So why...

Why did she feel uneasy?

"You’re being used."

The chairman’s final words echoed in her mind.

What if someone had deliberately poisoned the wine to manipulate her actions?

What if...

She had done exactly what they wanted?

A sudden dread gripped her heart.

"Return to the office."

"...Pardon?"

"**Ready my carriage. We’re going back—**now!"

Her Fortit.

She had left him behind.

Alone.

She had told her assistant to watch over the office...

But it wasn’t enough.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

"FASTER! DRIVE FASTER!"

She barked at the coachman, urging the horses into a full sprint.

She had to get back.

She had to see Fortit safe.

When she finally arrived, her worst fears came true.

Her office was in ruins.

Her assistant was gone—vanished without a trace.

Her ledgers and documents had been stolen.

Papers and broken furniture littered the ground.

And most importantly—

Her Fortit was gone.

"FORTIT!"

She frantically searched, eyes darting wildly across the wreckage.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!"

There was no answer.

No sound.

No sign of the one thing she could not afford to lose.

Her precious Fortit... had disappeared.

"...I was a fool."

She had never expected that her secretary had been preparing to betray her.

Taking advantage of her absence, he had stolen all the key documents of the trading company and disappeared without a trace.

Did that mean the poison in the wine prepared by the Merchant Coalition had been part of the setup from the very beginning?

No.

There had to be someone backing him.

Someone must have promised him protection in exchange for handing over the company’s ledgers.

Was it one of the other top ten trading companies on the continent?

She had been so blinded by her thirst for revenge.

Her vision had narrowed, and she had failed to see what truly mattered.

If she had kept her wits about her, this could have been prevented.

She wouldn’t have lost Fortit.

"I’ll find him."

No matter what it takes.

[Temperance] threw herself into gathering information.

The secretary and whoever had backed him had executed their plan with terrifying precision, making it nearly impossible to track them down.

However, by analyzing the stolen ledgers and tracking the industries that had profited the most, she found a lead.

"Sylvia Trading Company."

They were the ones who had taken Fortit.

"I never imagined the great Eliza herself would come to see me in person."

Sylvia, the noblewoman who led Sylvia Trading Company, smiled with infuriating ease.

[Temperance] could barely hold back the rage boiling inside her.

"I'm not here to quarrel."

"Oh? And what might you be here for?"

"Return the dog."

"The dog?"

"I’ll pay whatever price you ask."

Sylvia let out a haughty laugh, covering her lips with her gloved hand.

"Oh-hohoho! This {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} is quite amusing. The mighty Eliza is willing to pay me?"

"..."

"But what a shame. The only dog I know of stood up against a traitorous secretary without a shred of fear—only to die."

"...Liar."

That was a lie.

It had to be a lie.

There was no way Fortit was dead...

"Aah, your expression is simply delightful. I’ve longed to see that look on your face."

[Temperance] didn’t hear her.

Her mind was consumed with images of her poor dog, fighting to the very end to protect his master's belongings, only to die alone.

***

"Another failure?"

Every attempt to weaken [Miserliness] only seemed to reinforce it.

Each time [Temperance] experienced regret, the walls of her mind would momentarily crack—only for her to rebuild them even stronger.

It didn’t matter.

She had seen a glimmer of possibility.

As long as she had time, she had as many chances as she needed.

Failure wasn’t a problem.

She would keep going.

Until it worked.

She erased another dream.

And created a new one.

Again.

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***

[Fortit]

Another dream submerged into the depths.

A drop of memory, one that should have been forgotten, fell into the well of the unconscious.

Fortit.

Fortit.

Fortit.

FortitFortit.

FortitFortitFortit.

FortitFortitFortitFortit.

FortitFortitFortitFortitFortitFortit.

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