Avalon's Glass Staircase

"Have you only recently become a journalist?"

After reporter Dimit had eaten a little, Iver asked him a question.

"Yes, Mr. Moriarty!"

Dimit said respectfully and excitedly, "This is all thanks to you!"

He held a glass of wine in his hand, his cheeks already flushed.

"For someone like me, becoming a journalist is almost impossible... Journalism is a sacred and extremely demanding profession, and I am clearly unworthy of it."

Dimit looked somewhat dejected at this point. But he quickly rallied. "But because I took that photo of you—I mean, I'll do everything in my power to prove it!"

"You will become a good journalist."

Iver gently encouraged him, "Because you always have respect for the profession of 'journalist' in your heart. Only when you sincerely want to become a good journalist, only when you personally embark on this path, can you have the determination and perseverance to overcome all kinds of difficulties along the way, and only then can you have the possibility of going on, going to the end, and finally reaching the peak."

His ten fingers were interlaced, forming a pyramid shape in front of him.

Dimit's spirits rose even higher. "I will try my best, Mr. Moriarty!"

"I have high hopes for you."

Iver spoke, he lowered his voice. "You know what, Dimit..."

Upon hearing this, Dimit instinctively shrank his neck and put on an attentive listening expression. "Please go ahead."

This was not his performance, but rather his heartfelt attempt to please.

From a young age, Dimit possessed a natural talent for reading people. Despite his limited formal education, he always managed to get along well with others, largely due to his exceptional listening skills. People always felt comfortable talking to him.

That's why, despite only having a primary school education, he had the opportunity to become a photographer for the Glass Staircase Newspaper —because while working at another newspaper, he was brought in as an assistant by another photographer, and gradually learned and mastered outstanding photography skills.

"Master Agnes will be leaving Avalon soon."

"Who do you think will take over the newspaper next?" Iver said softly.

Upon hearing Iver's words, Dimit's heart tightened.

He realized the weight his words might carry.

Perhaps because he had drunk too much, he vaguely felt a smug illusion arising deep within his cotton-like brain—as if Iver would say, "You can take over the newspaper." But his rationality vehemently denounced, "That's absolutely impossible," bringing him back to his senses before he could become complacent.

More likely, however, it is possible that Minister Moriarty wanted him to give him advice.

The person he recommended might become Master Agnes's successor and the controller of the newspaper.

"... I think Randall is a good choice as editor-in-chief."

Dimit lowered his voice and spoke softly.

Perhaps it was because of the desires suppressed by reason that his voice sounded slightly hoarse.

"Yeah?"

Iver remained noncommittal.

Dimit then added, "He was the oldest editor in the newspaper, and one of the first people recruited by Master Agnes. Those people have either died of old age or retired... The only one left, Mr. Randall, is undoubtedly the most qualified person to succeed Master Agnes."

"What's on your mind?" Iver's lips curled up slightly.

"... and most importantly, he was the one who promoted me to become a journalist."

Dimit paused for a moment, then spoke in a low voice.

"Yeah."

Iver rested his chin on his hand and said casually, "But I don't think this is a good choice."

Seeing that his close associates were excluded by Iver first, Dimit couldn't help but feel disappointed, but he quickly dismissed it and instead asked softly, "Then who do you support?"

"--you."

"Iver said softly."

As Dimit's heart leaped into his throat, Iver continued, "Have you thought about yourself?"

"...some."

Dimit relaxed, let out a breath, and honestly said, "Of course I've had those fantasies, and I was even excited for a moment... but it was just a fantasy. Because I know I know so little..."

As he spoke, he became frustrated. "And I'm already this old... although I'm not that old, I don't have the time to study anymore. After all, I have to be busy with work."

"So how did you learn photography?"

Iver spoke softly, his voice carrying a low, persuasive quality. "You were able to learn photography before, and now you're trying to become a journalist. Why can't you become an editor in the future?"

"Mr. Moriarty, you must be kidding me."

Dimit said with a pained expression, "It would be troublesome if I actually started having inappropriate fantasies."

Iver chuckled, "Isn't that perfect?"

"...What?"

Dimit was startled.

Iver simply said, "I'm not joking, I'm serious. After Master Agnes leaves, I will recommend you to be the Editor-in-Chief of the Glass Staircase Newspaper."

"Of course, you won't be given the position of president—after all, you don't have any organizational experience in this area, and it would be too much trouble for you to learn from scratch."

—Editor-in-Chief!?

Dimit opened his mouth wide, wanting to cry out, but he suppressed the chaotic thoughts in his mind with reason, barely managing to control himself.

"I..."

... Can I really do it?

Before he could even finish his sentence, he suddenly bit his tongue and even tasted blood.

He suppressed his wildly beating heart and said with utmost seriousness, "I will definitely do well! I will absolutely live up to your expectations!"

Dimit knew this was no time for modesty and humility— Iver Moriarty was of such high status that he had plenty of people to turn to and would never coax him into coming.

Therefore, I must not back down even a step or show the slightest reluctance at this time!

Once I miss this opportunity, it will never come again! "As you know, Master Agnes is His Majesty's teacher. So when she was around, the Glass Staircase Newspaper always protected His Majesty. Now that she is about to leave, she can't help but worry about what will happen to the Glass Staircase Newspaper after she leaves."

"Do you know what the Glass Staircase are, Dimit?" Iver said slowly.

"... It's the step you take to get to the Round Table Hall, isn't it?"

Dimit hesitated for a moment before replying, "These steps were set up so that the knights could walk slowly and carefully."

"In retrospect, perhaps that was the purpose."

Iver just chuckled, "But it was definitely not like that back then— Lancelot I the nation on bravery, how could he be afraid of knights who were a generation younger than him? As the only surviving veteran of the War of Giants, a veteran with outstanding achievements, and the supreme king of the authoritarian nation, how could he use such means to make the knights express humility?"

"That is...?"

Dimit hesitated.

"—The answer is, the Glass Staircase of Avalon symbolize the monarch's absolute control and confidence."

Iver replied, "He has absolute confidence in protecting these incredibly fragile and beautiful things, because he is Lancelot I. That alone is enough to deter anyone from disrespecting him..."

The young man with dazzling platinum blonde hair had a deep gaze.

Dimit looked up at Iver and the night view behind him.

The twilight outside the window was deep, and the starlight was faint. The translucent crescent moon was already high in the night sky, where there was still a little lingering light.

Despite being much younger than himself, Dimit felt as if he were talking to an elder, experiencing immense pressure.

"It is so fragile, it would shatter at the slightest touch. Yet, since the founding of the nation, no one has dared to touch it in the slightest. It remains intact, without a single repair. What is the source of this? Is it the power of the Silver Crowned Dragon that makes it even stronger?"

"No, it's because people are always cautious. The ' Glass Staircase ' is a symbol of Avalon's monarchy, an invisible chain that holds the elephant in place. It was the most important symbol of Avalon's founding—stronger than a scepter, stronger than a sword, and stronger than a crown."

Iver said softly, "Now you know why Yanis named you the Glass Staircase Newspaper."

"You are so fragile, so vulnerable—there are hardly any superhumans among you. But no one dares to touch you. Because you are another ' Glass Staircase '."

"Then you..."

Dimit was on edge.

He vaguely realized something.

—If the symbolism of the "Glass Staircase" is so clear, how could Iver have appointed himself, who knew nothing but loyalty and diligence, as Editor-in-Chief?

Sure enough, Iver then said something that nearly caused Dimit's heart to stop—

"But Isabel has no inclination toward Path of Authority. She can't hold onto the Glass Staircase because they're not meant to be hers."

"Avalon will no longer be an authoritarian state. Those fragile, beautiful, precarious, and vulnerable Glass Staircase... should also be shattered."

Iver leaned back in his chair, his gaze deep. "What belongs to her, she will obtain herself. But it will certainly not be inherited from Lancelot... that Glass Staircase that always made her cautious and apprehensive."

"This is Isabel's Avalon. Not Du Lac's Avalon. Do you understand?" — Mr. Dimit.

Iver spoke gently, yet his words were so sharp and heavy that Dimit dared not utter a single word in response.

He stared at Iver in astonishment. Yet he didn't even know why he was afraid, nor did he understand what Iver's actions meant... He only vaguely sensed that Iver seemed to be about to change the entire Avalon.

In authoritarian states, the laws are immutable for all time.

This is also the Glass Staircase that remains in his heart.

Even though he had received little education and had never read any books, it was still etched in his heart. Just as the knights had forgotten why the Glass Staircase existed, yet never dared to destroy them.

Just then, a scream suddenly came from outside the window.

"There are wolves—"

"It's a werewolf! Run!"

Immediately following, shouts, fighting, and gunshots rang out, and the clear cry of a griffin descended with the sound of thunder. The chaos outside made Iver turn to look out the window, and Dimit finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He then realized that he was drenched in sweat.

Today's update is the third one, over 7,000 words, so it's a little late, meow~