Chapter 66
Dara had always believed numbers were supposed to be comforting.
Numbers were clean, honest, and predictable.
Numbers did not smile politely while hiding knives behind their backs.
Numbers did not arrange guards around her estate, call it protection, and then have the audacity to look handsome while doing it.
Numbers did not praise her "strategic insight" when she was very clearly trying to commit fiscal self-destruction with style.
Numbers, in theory, behaved.
Which was why Dara found it deeply offensive that the System's numbers were currently annoying her.
She sat alone in her private sitting room, one slippered foot tucked beneath her, a half-finished cup of tea cooling at her elbow.
Late afternoon light spilled across the carpet, touching the polished furniture, embroidered cushions, and the little tray of untouched pastries Grace had left behind before being dismissed.
Untouched because Dara was thinking.
This was rare enough that Cai had taken notice.
The little golden menace was curled inside a shallow dish on the side table, half-buried beneath three hair ribbons, two jeweled pins, and one stolen sugared almond. His tail hung over the rim. One eye remained open.
"You've been staring into the middle distance for a worrying amount of time," he said.
Dara did not look at him. "I am calculating."
"You look like you're planning a murder."
"I am calculating dramatically."
"Ah. My mistake."
Dara narrowed her eyes at the empty air before her. "System."
The interface appeared at once, soft gold light unfolding in front of her with its usual calm, bureaucratic lack of remorse.
"Display current funds."
The System flickered.
CURRENT FUNDS: 54,235 GOLD PERSONAL FUNDS: 12,920 GOLD
Dara froze, then leaned closer, drew back, and leaned in again, as if the display might become more intelligent under pressure.
Cai lifted his head. "Oh?"
Dara pointed. "That."
Cai squinted. "That appears to be money."
"No," Dara said. "That appears to be nonsense."
The System did not react.
Rude.
The first number was still offensively large, considering everything she had done to it. The second, however—
The second number was beautiful.
Twelve thousand nine hundred twenty gold.
Less than thirteen thousand.
Still a disgusting amount of money by any reasonable standard, yes. Still enough for comfort, stability, snacks, several satisfying blankets, and probably someone's silence.
But compared to where she had begun?
She had started with approximately twenty-one thousand.
Which meant she had burned through more than eight thousand gold.
Eight million dollars.
In less than four months.
For one long, holy second, Dara felt something almost like peace.
Then the first number offended her again.
CURRENT FUNDS: 54,235 GOLD
Her eyes narrowed. "Wait."
Cai's head lifted fully. "There it is."
Dara sat up straighter. "Route B."
The System flickered.
ACTIVE ROUTE: B — SOLO EXILE
"Yes," Dara said slowly. "Solo exile."
CONFIRMED.
"Individual failure."
CONFIRMED.
"Personal downfall."
CONFIRMED.
"And yet," Dara said, her voice cooling with dangerous precision, "you are still displaying the family funds as the primary number."
The System paused.
A very small pause.
A guilty pause.
Cai's eyes brightened. "Oh, this is going to be wonderful."
PRIMARY FUND METRIC: FAMILY FORTUNE.
Dara went completely still.
Then she lifted one hand. "Objection."
Cai scrambled upright inside the jewelry dish, scattering ribbons. "Yes. Excellent. Continue."
Dara pointed at the System like it had insulted her intelligence, her finances, and her ancestors. "That is Route A."
The System remained silent.
"That is the tragic collective downfall route," Dara continued. "The one where my father loses everything, the staff scatters, Grace cries, Bernard becomes quietly devastated in that horrible dignified way, and I become the sort of villainess who deserves to be disliked."
Cai nodded solemnly. "Deeply unfashionable."
"Exactly."
She stood.
This required standing.
Possibly pacing.
Definitely hand gestures.
"Route A is family exile. Family ruin. Family funds. Horrible, but internally consistent." She jabbed a finger at the glowing display. "But I am not doing Route A."
ACTIVE ROUTE: B — SOLO EXILE
"Yes," Dara snapped. "And what does solo mean?"
The System flickered once.
INDIVIDUAL.
Dara spread both arms. "Thank you."
Cai whispered, "She's winning."
"You cannot assign an individual failure condition while measuring success against a shared financial pool."
ORIGINAL OBJECTIVE: DEPLETE FAMILY FORTUNE.
"That was under the original route," Dara said. "The original route has been compromised."
ROUTE DIVERGENCE ACKNOWLEDGED.
"Good. We agree on reality. Excellent start."
Cai munched the sugared almond. "Reality must be so relieved."
Dara ignored him. "Route B exists because the conditions changed. Solo exile. Me. Alone. Individual scandal. Individual wrongdoing. Individual downfall."
She tapped her own chest. "My exile."
Then pointed again. "My funds."
The System went still.
Dara lifted her chin. "If the failure belongs to me, then the qualifying depletion source belongs to me."
Silence.
She leaned forward slightly. "And before you attempt to argue, let me remind you that I have a finance degree and unresolved emotional damage from capitalism. I can do this all day."
Cai's mouth fell open in delight. "She threatened divine bureaucracy with accounting."
"I clarified a reporting error," Dara said.
SYSTEM PROCESSING…
Dara crossed her arms. "Process faster."
Cai drifted up from the dish and hovered beside her shoulder. "Bully it more."
"I am not bullying it."
"You are absolutely bullying it."
"I am correcting it with authority."
"That is bullying with better posture."
The System flickered again.
PARAMETER CONFLICT DETECTED. ROUTE TYPE: INDIVIDUAL FAILURE CURRENT FUND METRIC: SHARED ASSET POOL
Dara smiled.
Small. Sharp. Deeply satisfied.
"There it is."
Cai clasped his claws together. "Oh, it admitted inconsistency. Beautiful."
RECALIbrATING…
The room fell quiet.
Outside, somewhere beyond the window, guards changed position, wheels moved over gravel, and workers returned from one of the district sites she had absolutely not improved on purpose.
Well.
Not entirely on purpose.
Not relevant.
The System's light brightened.
ROUTE B PARAMETER UPDATED. QUALIFYING DEPLETION SOURCE: PLAYER PERSONAL FUNDS.
Dara stared.
Cai stared.
The glowing text hovered calmly, as if it had not just been dragged through a legal and financial correction by a woman in a comfortable gown who had once eaten instant noodles over a sink.
Then Dara slowly nodded. "Much better."
Cai began clapping, tiny claws striking together in a dramatic rhythm at a completely unnecessary volume.
"Magnificent," he said. "You found a loophole and beat the System with it."
"I did not find a loophole. I enforced route consistency."
"That is somehow even more horrifying."
Dara sat back down, satisfied enough that even the tea looked slightly less offensive now. "Display updated progress."
PERSONAL FUNDS: 12,920 GOLD
Less than thirteen thousand.
Her heart gave one pleased little kick.
Eight million dollars spent already. Less than four months.
She leaned back slowly. "…I'm amazing."
Cai blinked. "You're proud."
"Of course I'm proud. Do you know how hard it is to spend eight million dollars in a medieval world?"
"Most people do not try."
"That is why most people lack vision."
Cai's whiskers twitched. "You funded public works."
"I burned money."
"You improved roads."
"With expensive intent."
"You stabilized multiple districts."
"That was an unfortunate side effect."
"You created supply systems."
"I wanted snacks."
"You strengthened the working class."
"They work better when they are not miserable."
"You see how this sounds, yes?"
Dara lifted her teacup, took a sip, and set it down with great dignity. "It sounds like I am versatile."
"It sounds like you are the worst villainess in recorded history."
Dara pointed at the System. "I have less than thirteen thousand gold left of my personal funds. That is progress."
Cai glanced at the number, then at her, then back at the number. "…It is a rather dramatic amount of progress."
"Thank you."
"For someone trying to fail, you are strangely productive."
"I have been working very hard at financial destruction."
"Yes," Cai said. "The roads are lovely."
Dara's eye twitched. "That is not the point."
"But they are."
"Cai."
"And the sanitation system."
"Cai."
"And the district coordination."
"I will put you in a drawer."
He gasped. "You wouldn't."
"I would label it."
He went still. "…Cruel."
"Villainess," she said sweetly.
For one shining moment, that restored her mood completely.
She looked again at the System.
PERSONAL FUNDS: 12,920 GOLD
A slow warmth spread through her chest—not emotional, but strategic. Villainous.
"My personal funds are down to less than thirteen thousand gold," she said, mostly to herself, counting off the rest on her fingers. "The council is compromised. Several members are behaving themselves because of what may or may not legally qualify as blackmail."
"It qualifies," Cai said helpfully.
"The nobles are irritated, the levies are moving, and my contributions are public enough that every stingy noble in the district is being quietly judged by their own commoners."
Cai placed both claws beneath his chin. "Delicious."
She slowed her pacing.
Her smile faltered by half an inch. "…Is it enough to get exiled, though?"
Cai floated upside down in front of her. "No."
Dara stopped. "No?"
"No."
"That was too fast."
"It was an easy question."
She frowned. "You're supposed to be supportive."
"I am supporting your villainous development by being honest."
"Rude."
"Accurate."
Dara turned toward the window, lips pressed together.
Less than thirteen thousand gold remaining.
A beautiful number.
A close number.