Irina survived.
The girl who, in the game’s fixed script, found dead in her father’s arms after being killed by a Misbegotten, survived.
She and her father, Edgar, were now on the road back to Castle Morne together.
With that seemingly absurd Galgame system, Loran had forcibly torn open a gap in the inescapable net called “fate,” woven by the “Creator.”
Through the simplest act of protection, a character who should have died gained a tomorrow.
That feeling made his heart surge more than soloing any powerful boss or obtaining any legendary piece of equipment ever could.
It proved that the “Creator’s” words had not been empty.
The “ending” of this world was not fixed.
But that sense of satisfaction was quickly interrupted by an impatient grumble.
“Hey... are you awake yet...? The sun’s been up forever...”
Kiro rubbed her eyes, yawned, and climbed up from the ground.
She stretched, and her bones let out a series of crisp pops.
Under the sunlight, her messy silver hair looked like a fluffy dandelion.
“Let’s go, let’s go! Time to move out! Callu Baptismal Church!”
There she went again.
The tiny bit of heroism and philosophical contemplation that had just risen in Loran’s heart was instantly shattered by that ear-piercing demonic chant.
What a headache.
He looked at Kiro.
At that bright, refreshed face of hers.
At those eyes that always sparkled with the light of causing trouble.
And that question surfaced in his mind once again.
Back then, why exactly had he thought this woman was “interesting”?
The lid of his memories was pried open by a crack.
It had been one night when he was writing code late into the night.
The dense lines of text on the screen made him feel physically sick.
To clear his head, he opened the livestream section of a video site.
The algorithm recommended a clip with a sensational title.
[Trapped in a Death Loop, Loli Succubus Rages at Opponent’s Entire Family]
As if possessed, he clicked on it.
On the screen was a VTuber named Kiro.
She controlled her game character and got headshot at the same corner five times in a row.
Every time she died, she erupted into a torrent of curses on stream.
It was not that cutesy, deliberately affected whining used for fanservice.
It was pure rage from the bottom of her heart, cursing the opponent from the level of their DNA all the way up to eighteen generations of ancestors.
The chat was full of “LMAO,” “she’s losing it,” and “most sane streamer.”
Beneath the avatar, there was a soul genuinely furious over a trivial game.
She was not trying to look cute.
She was not trying to be likable.
She was just angry, honestly and completely.
For Loran, who was used to restraining himself with logic and rules, calculating everything and fitting it into order, that utterly chaotic “disorder” had briefly stimulated him.
He thought it was “interesting.”
So he followed her.
So he occasionally watched her streams.
So he joined that collaboration lottery.
So, in the end, he was dragged into this place together with her.
Now, he regretted it.
Through a screen and an internet cable, “interesting” was a seasoning that could be turned off at any time.
But when that “interesting” appeared beside you in the flesh, becoming a source of noise that never stopped, a troublemaker who might set off everything around her at any moment, a walking disaster who turned your plans upside down—
It was no longer interesting.
It was torture.
“Hey! Why are you spacing out again?”
Seeing that he had not reacted for a while, Kiro stuck out her leg and kicked his ankle.
“Hurry up! You promised me! Torrent is mine to ride, and you walk! Keep up!”
She blew the whistle, and Torrent appeared in response.
She nimbly mounted the spectral steed, turned back to look at Loran with a smug expression, then shot off into the distance.
Loran stood up from the ground, brushed the dust from his body, and looked at her figure gradually disappearing at the end of the road.
He let out a deep sigh.
He raised a hand and rubbed his increasingly throbbing temple.
Regret.
He truly regretted it.
Callu Baptismal Church was filled with a stale, moldy smell.
Kiro knelt before the dried-up corpse in the center of the church, holding an old prayerbook in both hands.
Frenzied Flame.
She opened the pages.
Power emerged from between the lines, transforming into surging flames that poured into the space between her brows.
She closed her eyes and carefully savored that violent power that scorched the soul.
“Done.”
Kiro closed the book in satisfaction and stood up.
She immediately ran to the Site of Grace at the church entrance and sat down cross-legged, unable to wait.
“Memorize Spell... memorize... equip the Frenzied Flame incantation...”
She muttered to herself while operating the interface in her mind.
The instant Kiro dragged the Frenzied Flame incantation into a Memory Slot—
A familiar and chilling presence descended without warning.
Kiro’s eyes snapped open.
She could feel someone watching her.
It was a gaze projected from some distant beyond, a dimension transcending space and time.
She stiffly turned her head and looked outside the Site of Grace.
Melina stood there.
[Name: Melina]
[Identity: ???]
[Affection: +5 toward Kiro / -10 toward Loran]
[Status: Appraising]
Melina’s affection toward Kiro was 5.
Ever since their brief interaction when they first met, that number had never changed again.
She looked at Kiro without saying a word.
She simply stood there quietly, with a smile on her face that made one’s scalp tingle.
“Why... why are you looking at me like that?”
Kiro felt uncomfortable all over under that gaze and could not help asking.
“It is nothing, Tarnished.”
Melina spoke.
Her voice was as soft and gentle as ever, but that smile did not fade from her face.
Something was wrong.
Loran immediately sensed the incongruity.
Melina’s smiles had always been restrained, carrying a sense of distance.
But at this moment, the curve of her lips was fixed in place, like an exquisite mask.
More importantly, there was no smile at all in her healthy eye.
It was a calm lake without the slightest ripple, bottomless, reflecting nothing.
It simply “looked” at Kiro.
“Nothing? Why do I feel like this is very much something?”
Kiro retorted without thinking.
She climbed up from the ground, patted the dust off her backside, and looked suspicious.
“Don’t tell me... you’re angry because I touched the Frenzied Flame? I’m telling you, that’s not my fault. You were the one who...”
Halfway through, she suddenly remembered something.
A look of sudden realization appeared on her face, mixed with a mischievous grin.
“Oh—I remember now! The Frenzied Flame affects the ending, right? If I take the Frenzied Flame route, then in the end, you won’t have to burn—”
“Shut up!”
Loran barked, cutting off Kiro’s spoiler with brutal force.