Chapter 157: Naming
In the end, my policy of “not trusting even those I love” proved useful.
The prostitute Maries was sent to a monastery, but even so, my life hasn’t changed at all.
However… ironically, this incident allowed me to mostly forget about my past life. A blessing in disguise, I guess.
…In my past life, every time I failed, I lost many things.
But this time, even though I failed, it was treated as the other party being 100% at fault! “How dare she betray Lord Andrews!” – that’s how it was handled, and I got to be the 100% pitiful victim.
I managed to fail “successfully.”
This event was enough to dispel my trauma. Thinking that from now on, if someone betrays me, they’ll be 100% in the wrong, makes life feel considerably easier.
And the aftercare, well, that should be fine too.
I heard she was sent to a monastery run by the church, but monasteries are basically like villages.
Fundamentally, there aren’t that many people in this world. Even if you gathered the entire population of the planet, it probably wouldn’t even reach one billion.
The Earth of the era I lived in had a total population exceeding eight billion… Isn’t this planet about one-tenth of that?
So, what does that mean?
The number of buildings, towns, and villages is also one-tenth, no, even less than that.
Everywhere is basically fields or forests, and villages just plopped down in the middle of a field, living self-sufficiently, exist without issue.
Monasteries are like that too; most are like isolated islands on land, located in remote, unpopulated areas where escaping would guarantee starvation along the way.
What do they do? Besides praying to God and making alcohol, it’s basically the same as a farming village.
And, they have the privilege of “making and selling wine and ale,” which allows them to earn money, so they can live relatively more prosperously than an ordinary farming village.
Besides, places chosen as exile destinations for problematic noble daughters also receive modest donations from the nobility.
Therefore, life in a monastery is strict due to rules and regulations… but at the very least, it’s far more prosperous than a mere farming village, a place where one can live without starving.
I want Maries to live out the rest of her life quietly there. Knowing that a girl I once liked can live reasonably well without starving means I don’t have to feel strangely guilty either.
Anyway, a problem occurred, but it was resolved.
Having stumbled once, strangely enough, I was able to re-examine myself and the world around me up to now, and on top of that, I could even dispel my trauma.
It wasn’t a bad thing.
Of course, I was hurt.
It’s quite sad.
But it’s the kind of pain that heals after drinking some alcohol and sleeping for a night.
The matter was dealt with swiftly in a single day, and all I lost was one lover. The damage isn’t that great.
This isn’t some Jonathan-style bravado; I seriously feel like it’s already in the past.
That’s likely due to a combination of factors, like living a stress-free life normally and the fact that the aftermath was handled well.
But as a result, I’ve already gotten over Maries and was celebrating the arrival of spring with Rosalinde…
“The snow… stopped, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’ll probably get warmer from now on.”
“This child… will be born around before summer, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Being born when it’s warm… is fortunate, isn’t it?”
“True. Being born in Winter… freezing to death is quite common in this world…”
“Ah… the name, what should we do… about it?”
“The child’s name? Is it okay for me to decide?”
“Yes, you’re the father… right?”
Ah, so that’s how it is.
I thought Count Missgancia or someone would decide, so I haven’t thought about it at all.
“Well then, shall we think about it together?”
“Yes!”
Having said that… what should we do?
I’ve never thought about the Naming Conventions of this world.
…Come to think of it, I’ve met people with names like “Maria” or “Johann,” which seem to come from the Bible. What’s up with that?
Feeling curious, I asked Rosalinde.
“Maria and Johann… are the names of patron saints, you know?”
Ah, right.
Well, maybe that part is just a coincidence…?
“Thinking about it, there are many name patterns in this world, aren’t there? Everyone has a different name.”
“Eh…? Isn’t it inconvenient… if people have the same name?”
Hmm?
“…Isn’t it common to name a child after their grandfather or something like that?”
“Why…?”
Why, you ask…
Because it shows the continuity of the bloodline…?
It’s the Middle Ages, isn’t it something like So-and-so the Fourth! or Whatchamacallit the Sixth!?
…No, maybe it’s unnecessary.
This is a fantasy world where Magical Power and appearance are inherited cleanly, after all.
For example, look at Rosalinde.
Count Missgancia’s hair color is dark brown, almost black. Racially speaking, the indigenous people around here probably have black hair as the main color. Apparently, long ago, this area was also part of the southern “Empire.”
But over the last few hundred years, due to mixing with blond races from the north and Elf blood, brown hair has become dominant. It seems something like a great migration has occurred.
However, people like Count Missgancia, from established old families around here, tend to intermarry with other old families, so their hair color converges towards black.
Yet, Count Missgancia’s third wife… Rosalinde’s mother, is blonde.
While it’s not absolute, the probability of Rosalinde being blonde should be low.
And yet, she’s blonde. Blonde hair should be considered a recessive trait…
Margot is strange too.
High Elf? Born with white hair? Does that mean absolutely no melanin pigment?
And what’s this about long-lived Elves transforming into High Elves? Is that mocking medical science? I don’t get it…
…Anyway, in a world where appearances are so distinct, proving lineage is probably considered easy.
The idea of giving names legitimacy! doesn’t seem to exist…
“Hmm… what should we do?”
“Well then, following the book you wrote, how about ‘Loto’ or…”
“Th-That’s a bit…”
Now then, what should I do…?