Augusta was by my side, holding my hand as I ran through the city with her behind me. We stopped in front of a large building with a dome on top of it. There was a wide smile on my face as I turned to my friend.

  In the Duke's Duplicity, the Kraznov Theatre was something that you could pass by in the city. I didn't know if the characters ever went to it, but I would definitely now.

  "Tell me, Augusta, have you ever been to the theatre?" I asked.

  "No," she answered in her stoic voice.

  "Well, then I hope you're ready to see a play," I said. "I'll make sure to get you the best seats available."

  "No," Augusta replied.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  "If you don't want to see a play, you can just say so," I stated.

  Augusta shook her head.

  "I want to watch a play with you, but I'm getting the seats," the girl told me. "I know you don't have a job and you don't have people giving you tax money, Dante. And I know you're running low on coin."

  Rubbing the back of my head, I sighed.

  "Augusta, it's true that I don't have a job, but I have plenty of money saved up," I explained.

  "Then, why did you dig up the mass grave we buried the soles in to steal the bits of rock they carried?" Augusta asked.

  I huffed and folded my arms.

  "We killed them, and you and Robert didn't want their corpses. That means they're mine to loot."

  Augusta tilted her head. She had a calm expression on her face, but the girl's eyes showed confusion.

  "I'll let you pick the play we watch if you let me pay for it," Augusta said.

  "Deal," I replied. "There's a comedy that I've wanted to see, and I think we'll both enjoy it."

  We walked up to the theatre entrance. There, a woman stood at the door. She wore a dress that reminded me a little bit of what Augusta usually wore. However, hers was far less fancy.

  The moment this woman saw Augusta, her face filled with complete and utter terror. Her body turned pale.

  "Y-Your Royal Highness, i-it is an honor to see you here," she stated. "I-I am but a humble peasant selling tickets."

  Oh. She must be from Calavon. Or at least be more aware of foreign affairs.

  "I want to buy two tickets to the comedy," Augusta said.

  My palm slapped my forehead.

  "It's called Lots of Talking About Little," I sighed. "Sorry, that was my fault. I should have told you what the play was called, Augusta. I know you have no social skills."

  She reached up and patted my head.

  "I should have asked what it was called. And this has nothing to do with social skills," Augusta stated.

  The woman rapidly shook her head. I felt a bit uneasy from how much she was panicking.

  "D-Don't worry, Your R-Royal Highness! I w-won't fail your test! I know o-our royals h-have too much dignity to watch a c-comedy! I-I'll get you the b-best seats to the C-Cinquen Bloodbath!"

  She ran inside the building before we could utter any objections. After a few moments, a deep voice boomed from inside.

  "What do you mean, I have to give up my seat? I am the Duke of Meuse, and I paid for..."

  Then, there was silence. After a few more moments, the woman returned to us.

  "We have your seat ready for you, Your Highness," she said, a bit more calm but still trembling with fear.

  Augusta looked down.

  "You didn't have to kick Duke Frederic out of his seat," the girl stated.

  "We did not kick him out," the woman replied. "The moment I mentioned who you were, he gladly gave up his spot."

  She then got behind us and pushed us into the building. Her hands were shaking all the while.

  "Please enjoy the play," the woman said.

  "How much will this cost? I'll also give Duke Frederic his money back," Augusta asked.

  "Nothing at all! We wouldn't dare make you pay for something as simple as a play! And we already gave him a full refund!"

  One theatre performance later, Augusta was throwing up in a back alley. I held her hair up for her with one hand while I rubbed her back with the other. Thankfully, she was able to hold it in until we got there. Considering her station, I doubted Augusta would have lived it down if anyone found out about this.

  "What kind of sick bastard writes a play like that?" Augusta groaned.

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  "It was pretty dark," I admitted. "But there is a place for dark fiction."

  "A man got his legs cut off by a king. So he got revenge by raping the king's daughter and feeding him his own sons!"

  The normally calm Augusta's composure had completely broken.

  "I'm pretty sure it's based on an old folk story. But none of the characters were called Volund," I tried to calm her down.

  "I've never seen anything so vile in my entire life! Whoever made that story must have...I don't even know!"

  "It probably wouldn't have been so bad if the special effects weren't so good."

  I made a mental note to never show Augusta a slasher movie, in the event that I somehow got the opportunity to.

  "When Duke Frederic finds out about what was in that play, he'll thank me for taking his seat," Augusta said.

  She then shook her head, standing up. I let go of her hair.

  "Do you feel better now?" I asked.

  "Yes. I will write Duke Frederic a letter of apology when we get back to school," Augusta answered. "This was a disaster."

  With that, she started walking out of the alley. I followed Augusta. When we exited, the girl stopped dead in her tracks. Doing the same, I looked where Augusta's gaze was fixed.

  In front of us was a slightly overweight man wearing incredibly poofy clothes. Actually, when I examined him further, I realized that he wasn't fat. That was just the way his clothing looked.

  He had a twirly mustache and wore a rapier at his hip. Several other men in slightly less fancy clothes surrounded him. They all seemed both surprised and terrified.

  "Your Highness. I did not expect to see you here. Did you enjoy the play?" the man asked.

  "Duke de Meuse, I apologize for the seating incident," Augusta replied.

  This noble held up his hands.

  "Now, now, there is no need for that. You are our princess. Even abroad, I am still your loyal subject," he said with a hint of fear in his eyes.

  Then, I spoke up.

  "So, you're a noble of Calavon, right? What are you doing in Katow?"

  Duke Frederic's gaze turned to me. His jaw dropped.

  "Miseur Montresor? You and...Her Highness? Here together?"

  My eyes widened in shock. I didn't remember Duke Frederic from the game, but he knew Dante? This was my chance! I could ask him about stuff that Millia wouldn't tell me! Then, I could get my memories back! But...

  ...no. Today was about Augusta, not me. I needed to make her happy and not focus on myself.

  Then, I remembered the title of the game, the Duke's Duplicity. Was Frederic the duke the title was talking about? I don't remember seeing much fan art of him, but I also actively avoided spoilers. It could also be that he wasn't a very popular character.

  "Duke de Meuse, do you have a place where we can talk in private?" Augusta asked. "With Dante?"

  Frederic nodded rapidly.

  "Of course, Your Highness," he answered. "Right this way."

  "Augusta, I think we should..." I started.

  The girl picked me up and carried me, not listening to my objections. Soon enough, we were sitting in a private room across from Duke Frederic. He twirled his mustache as he listened to the last of what Augusta told him.

  "I see. You have lost your memories, Miseur Montresor?" the duke asked.

  "Yes," I confirmed. "I have, Your Grace."

  Still a bit afraid, Frederic waved a hand.

  "You don't have to call me Your Grace, Miseur Montresor. Call me Miseur de Meuse," he said.

  "If you say so, Miseur de Meuse," I replied.

  Frederic must have held Dante in high regard if he wanted a commoner, and one of 15, like him to speak with him as an equal.

  "Now, Your Highness," Frederic spoke as he played with his mustache. "What is Miseur Montresor to you?"

  "He is the most important living person to me. I am thinking of giving him a sword," Augusta replied without hesitating.

  I...had no idea what to say to that. I didn't know that Augusta thought so highly of me. And I hadn't even done anything to deserve it. My cheeks blushed upon hearing those words.

  Frederic let out a deep breath. He leaned back in his seat and placed a hand on his forehead. His gaze then turned to me.

  "Miseur Montresor, you really have lost your memories, right? You are not lying, right?" Frederic then shook his head. "By the gods, you're not. No man could fake that blush."

  "I'm not lying. Augusta is my best fr..."

  "You called her Augusta."

  Frederic interrupted me.

  "Augusta, not Your Highness," the duke seemed utterly dumbfounded. "You're on a first-name basis."

  He breathed in so hard that I thought he might choke. Then, Frederic breathed out. I shared a look of concern with Augusta. When we turned to the duke, he seemed to be in the process of figuring out what to say.

  "Miseur Montresor, what happens if you regain your memories, and you don't like what you remember?" Frederic asked.

  That was something I was worried about. I had other, more pressing concerns, too. What if I got Dante's memories and stopped being myself? Or what if I got my memories from whatever life I had before arriving in this world and found out I repressed them for a very good reason?

  And what would happen if I got my memories from my past life, but not Dante's memories? I might never have been Dante, after all. So, I would still be in the dark about Dante's past.

  The way Frederic was talking also worried me. He knew Dante, and he seemed to be implying that Dante did not have a good life. Still, I remembered the title of the game. I couldn't trust him fully.

  "I don't know. I don't think I could know until I get my memories back. It depends on what they are," I said.

  Frederic nodded slowly and deliberately.

  "And, Miseur Montresor, what if your memories caused you to make enemies? There are certain people in King Casimir Academy who you may come to hate if you have your memories back," he stated.

  An uneasy feeling settled in my body. I shivered. A warmth that was very unpleasant joined it.

  "Perhaps, at this point, it would be better off if you never got your memories back?" Frederic suggested.

  Augusta stood up, rage on her face. I felt heat radiating from her.

  "How could you possibly say something like that?" her voice was calm, despite everything.

  "Look, it's...umm...just..." the duke started.

  "Dante doesn't remember anything! He doesn't remember his family, his friends, his old life, his..."

  "Augusta, it's alright," I interrupted her.

  The girl stopped in her tracks. I felt awful in so many different ways.

  "But Dante..." Augusta started.

  "It's fine. I understand what Miseur de Meuse is saying...well, not fully, but partially," I said. "And he knew who I was before I lost my memories. He knows the situation better than either of us."

  Augusta sat down. My gaze turned to Frederic, who looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

  "I apologize," Augusta said.

  "It...it's fine," Frederic replied.

  "Miseur de Meuse," I took a deep breath. "Even if what you're saying is true, and the thought that it is terrifies me, I might get my memories back eventually anyway. It's better if I get them back sooner. If it's later, I don't know if I'll be able to handle the fallout."

  It would be better to deal with this before I get my full party together.

  "That is a very good point," Frederic nodded.

  He pulled his mustache down and let it spring back up.

  "However, I will still not tell you about your past, Dante," Frederic said, regret clear in his eyes. "I...I cannot do it."

  Was that the truth, or was he the deceptive duke?

  "Why not?" Augusta asked.

  Frederic flinched away. Then, he took a deep breath.

  "Because I swore an oath, and I will keep that oath. Any nobleman who would dishonor himself is worthless. I apologize, Your Highness, but I would rather let you take my life than dishonor myself."

  Augusta turned and walked to the door.

  "I understand," she said. "Dante, let's leave."

  Getting up, I started to follow her. Just as I got to the exit, I heard Frederic's voice.

  "One more thing. Miseur Montresor. If you regain your memories and are still on good terms with the person whom you might otherwise hate, send me a letter. I came to this city to see its new theatre, and I would like to tell you about one of the plays I saw."

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