The Bartforts weren’t a true noble family, but they did technically hold their own territory: this floating island. Formerly, they had been a knight family, a baronet actually, just a step below a baron, and they had lived in relative harmony. Vassal families cultivated the land and welcomed knights without a lord to protect them. As a result, the population expanded, and the number of fields that required tending increased. Likewise, the number of people the land could support also grew…which was decidedly not a good thing, according to Nicks.
During our grandpa’s time, an agent from Holfort Kingdom came to our territory and decided it was large enough to be recognized as a barony. When they informed my grandpa they would be elevating his rank, he panicked.
Knowledge from my previous life caused me to question this reaction. Wasn’t becoming a baron something to be happy about? Elevating someone’s noble rank was basically like a promotion. But shouldn’t it be based on some sort of achievement, like exploits on the battlefield? Could you really be rewarded just for the size of your land and the number of people in it?
“Why didn’t he want a higher status?” I asked.
Nicks seemed a bit unsure himself, but he said he could tell by our dad’s tone when he told the tale that it wasn’t something to be happy about. “Grandpa complained that it was too sudden. Plus, your offerings to the crown have to be proportionate to your rank. That’s why we’re so poor.”
More knowledge from my previous life filled in the gaps in my understanding. Some houses barely managed to reach the level necessary to be recognized as baronies, while others easily surpassed the minimum requirements. The latter had no issue paying their taxes to the kingdom, but the former strained to meet the mark.
A lot of baronets who could very well be regarded as a barony for their size and population kept their mouths shut to avoid notice.
At any rate, our isolated island in the countryside had become a barony. The position demanded that our house conduct itself in a way appropriate for its new title, and so my dad was forced to marry a woman of high standing.
“Dad and the mistress are married, right?” I said. “How come she doesn’t stay here with us?” She and her two children only came to visit occasionally.
“That’s pretty normal for any lady born to a family of higher rank than baron,” Nicks said. “Sucks, doesn’t it? If you’re going to get stuck with a wife, it would be better to marry someone from a baronet house or lower. Well, then again, women from higher ranking houses wouldn’t even look twice at us.”
“So that’s normal?” I clarified.
“You’d better study while you can. If you can’t get hitched while you’re at the academy, you’ll be a late bloomer and get stuck marrying some older lady. You don’t want to be single when you’re twenty, right?”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. I knew about the academy, of course, but hearing late bloomer as something derogatory toward men? Normally women were the ones who were told that if they didn’t end up married by a certain age, they’d be a spinster.
I paused. “Nicks?”
“‘Bro’ is fine, I don’t care. What is it?”
“What do you mean when you say we could get stuck with some older woman?”
He cocked his head at me. “Exactly what I said. You’ll get married to a widow, someone who couldn’t get married in the first place, or someone whose man ran out on her. A lover isn’t going to cut it. It’s not honorable. That’s why a lot of young guys get shipped off to grandmas.”
My brother was frightfully mature for his age.
“But isn’t it usually the opposite?” I pressed. “Aren’t men usually at the top of society?” The memories of my past life insisted that men were dominant—something something patriarchy? Apparently that was wrong.
“Come on, all you have to do is look at our dad to know women are on top. You saw it for yourself. He can’t even stand up to that wench—err, the mistress.” Clearly Nicks found her unpleasant. “You know, you’re acting kinda strange today.”
I forced a smile before returning my attention to the book on the table. Cold sweat beaded my forehead. The bizarre memories of my past life continued to insist that something was off about this one.
This is weird. This world is straight-up weird.
For a while, I read in silence, but I was mulling over what Nicks had told me. It felt like I’d heard his story somewhere before.
“Academy… Holfort Kingdom? And the mistress’s servant was an elf? Wait a minute. Don’t tell me…”
My brother chastised me. “What are you muttering about?”
“U-um, that dude in the suit. That elf—he was the mistress chick’s lover, wasn’t he?” The manner of speech from my memories slipped out.
Nicks didn’t seem to care. Actually, he seemed exasperated. “Quit asking stupid questions and get back to studying.”
She had a demi-human—an elf—as her servant/lover… I knew this setup. In fact, I remembered it vividly.
I slumped over, my forehead smacking the top of the desk. “This is that stupid otome game.”
My memories, which had seemed muddled and murky before, suddenly felt sharp and clear. This was the world of that fluffy, romantic dating sim.
Nicks slapped me over the head with his open palm. “Don’t sleep! Seriously, what’s wrong with you today? Did you hit your head?”
I lifted my chin and gave him a forced smile, my lips stretched over my teeth.
He recoiled with surprise. “Wh-what is it?”
“This world is completely insane.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so?” He seemed at a loss for how to respond. Perhaps to avoid talking any further, he turned back to his book.
I never dreamed I would experience reincarnating in another world. Sure, fantasy and magic and swordsmanship didn’t sound so bad, but it had a matriarchal society? I couldn’t have been reincarnated into a more normal civilization?
I cradled my head in my hands. “This suuuuuuucks!”
“What the heck is wrong with you!” Nicks fussed. “Shut up already!”
I, Leon Fou Bartfort, was a Japanese man reincarnated into the world of an otome game. Give me a freakin’ break!