Back on Earth, Lillian had not been a politician or an economist—he had merely been an ordinary office worker who had just graduated from university. The reason he could speak so confidently here was simply because of what he had learned from high school history and political studies. On Earth, anyone could casually discuss such topics, but in this world, such ideas would likely be considered advanced experience.
As a great figure once said, "Analyze concrete situations concretely." Whether Earth's experience could adapt to another world remained uncertain—especially in a world of overwhelming power, where a single individual could destroy a nation. In such circumstances, many things would naturally differ. However, no matter how different the situation, human nature itself remained essentially the same. That was true in any world.
What Lillian described was merely a direction. As for the specific methods—he had no idea. Yes, it was easy to say that people's quality of life should be improved, but how exactly should that be done? Increasing income, developing productivity… Lillian was no expert. At most, he could offer suggestions; he could not produce a detailed step-by-step plan for sweeping reforms.
However, even a direction or viewpoint could change many things. After all, choosing the right path was more important than effort itself. Choose the correct direction, and half the work is already done; choose the wrong one, and all effort merely pushes success further away. In the end, nothing remains but self-consolation—except perhaps for the rare great figures or madmen who defy the current and create history.
"…I understand. What you said makes a great deal of sense," Emilia said after thinking for a long time. She was a humble person and would not deny what she believed to be correct merely to save face.
"But I'm curious about something." Her eyes were filled with confusion as she met Lillian's gaze. "You should be supporting Priscilla, shouldn't you? Why would you help me by telling me all this?"
"I never said I supported her," Lillian replied, feeling a headache coming on at the thought of the arrogant girl. "She's a good person, but she isn't very suitable to be king… Though, honestly, among all of you candidates—well, never mind. I don't really support anyone. I only said those things because the conversation led there."
"I see…"
Emilia seemed to relax slightly. For some reason, she felt that Lillian's words could greatly influence whoever he chose to support. Although their interactions had totaled less than an hour, the more she reflected on them, the more she felt he was a very mature person.
The decisiveness with which he dealt with the thugs when they first met, and the flawless composure with which he lied—though she did not like that aspect, she had to admit that any mature politician was skilled at deception. Later, when they met at Roswaal's mansion, it had been she who first showed hostility… Yet now, not only had he not sought revenge, he had helped her during the meeting and even shared important strategies with her.
What exactly is he thinking?
For a moment, Emilia wished she possessed the ability to read minds, to see what truly lay within Lillian's thoughts. Yet if such a power existed, she might find only chaos. In truth, even Lillian himself was extremely anxious at the moment—he simply did not show it.
"If there's nothing else, let's end things here," Lillian said.
"Then—" Emilia hesitated before asking tentatively, "If I have questions in the future, may I ask you?"
"Of course. But I can't guarantee I'll give you the answers you want."
"Mm!"
Their conversation came to a temporary end. Emilia pulled up her hood, and the two left the tavern together. Just as they were about to part ways, they saw Subaru running toward them from the street ahead.
With no obstacles in the way, he quickly spotted them. He froze for a moment, then hurried over in a few large strides. After stopping in front of them, he looked at the two with confusion.
"Emilia-tan, you two…"
"Subaru, didn't we agree that you would wait for me at the inn?"
"I was really worried about you! Earlier…" Subaru spoke while casting a complicated glance at Lillian. "So many people attacked you in that hall—how could I not worry? By the way, Emilia-tan, why are you with him? The person you said you would discuss the royal selection with… was him?"
"…."
Emilia felt somewhat embarrassed. She had not yet explained to Subaru that Lillian's apparent criticism and attacks at the time had actually helped her in some ways. Yet explaining it now, in front of Lillian, would only feel even more awkward.
"Well then, goodbye," Lillian said, having no desire to engage in pointless conversation with Subaru. He turned to Emilia, then asked another question as the thought occurred to him, "Are you heading back to the Mathers domain?"
"Yes, we'll head back the day after tomorrow."
"Why are you asking that?" Subaru interjected. Lillian glanced at him, casually replied that he was just asking, then waved and turned to leave.
"You—"
"That's enough, Subaru," Emilia said. "Let's go back."
"But—"
"I didn't explain it clearly before. Lillian was actually helping me at the time… I'll explain when we return."
"Helping you?" Subaru still didn't understand. That was only natural—he hadn't stood in Emilia's position and had already assumed that everyone else was hostile toward her, so he regarded Lillian the same way.
As for Lillian, he had long expected this reaction. He understood Subaru fairly well. In short, Subaru was someone influenced by a perfect father, who pursued perfection himself and ultimately failed. The key reason for that failure was simple: he did not possess his father's talent.
When someone without talent insists on perfectionism, only two outcomes exist. One is to keep striving after failure, using immense effort to compensate for lack of ability and eventually accepting one's imperfection. The other is to collapse under repeated setbacks, becoming trapped in the extremes of inferiority and arrogance—two sides of the same coin. Social ineptitude and performative behavior were merely side effects of this contradiction.
Subaru clearly belonged to the latter.
His lack of talent was easy to confirm. His decline began in middle school. In elementary school he had ranked first in his class, but in middle school he could no longer maintain that position. Everyone knew that some people simply possessed natural talent—able to rank first without studying, outperforming diligent students even while sleeping.
That was talent—at least in academics. Of course, everyone had different talents, but unlike academic ability, many were harder to discover. School was a universal arena, making academic talent easier to display. In other fields, many people might never discover their talent simply because they never encountered the opportunity. Such was the cruelty of reality.
Subaru lacked academic talent. Unable to maintain his perfectionism, he gradually turned extreme… until he reached a state where he had no friends, felt physically ill at the thought of school, and became a shut-in at home. It was undeniably tragic.
But it was unrealistic to sympathize with every tragic person and wait for their growth. Human relationships were based on one's current state. Who would waste time on someone whose future growth was uncertain? When choosing a marriage partner, how many people truly chose a so-called "potential stock"?
Lillian especially disliked that notion. His belief was simple: if you could accept a person exactly as they were—personality, speech, interests—and remain satisfied even if they never changed, then marrying them was fine. But if what you loved was only the person you imagined they might become, forcing a relationship would exhaust both sides.
In Lillian's view, everyone would grow eventually—but how long would that take? Just as an undeveloped genius was nothing but a joke, talent itself was less important than the environment that nurtured it. Therefore, regarding the present, unformed Subaru, Lillian had no intention of wasting even a moment of his time or overly considering his feelings. As long as Subaru's instability did not affect him directly, it was irrelevant.
When Subaru truly gains the courage to face himself, then we'll talk, Lillian thought.
There were many kinds of courage: dying for someone you loved was courage; maintaining grace under pressure was courage. But in Lillian's eyes, true courage was facing one's own flaws and shortcomings, dissecting the darkness within with the objectivity of a third party.