Lilia was accelerating everything.
What should have taken weeks was being crushed into minutes, forcing events forward with no regard for whether anyone was ready. There was no room left to hesitate, no time to observe from a safe distance.
A decision had to be made—now.
The familiar sensation crept up my spine, the same one that always appeared right before a major battle in the game.
The air felt heavier, as if the world itself was waiting for an input command.
The scene overlapped in my mind: a battlefield map unfolding, allied icons flashing, warning indicators lighting up one after another.
Alice stood at the center of it all.
For her, the North—Draken—wasn’t just territory or a title. It was her name, her blood, her reason for existing. Everything she was had been shaped to protect it.
Those who wear the crown, bear its weight.
The phrase had never felt more accurate.
She had endured quietly for years. Turned a blind eye to her fiancé’s infidelity.
Swallowed humiliation in the name of stability. And when she finally broke, when all that restraint detonated at once, she hadn’t aimed for the prince.
Instead, she had pushed the worst move onto the saintess.
A politically correct choice.
A catastrophically human one.
’I thought we could take it a bit slower,’ I admitted inwardly. ’Guide her. Let her come to it on her own.’
But Lilia wasn’t allowing that luxury.
The current of events was already dragging Alice toward a cliff, and if no one intervened, she would step off believing it was the only path left.
My gaze followed her as she stood near the banquet hall window, arms folded, staring out over the North’s snow-covered expanse.
She looked composed—unyielding, even—but I could see it now. The tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers pressed too tightly into her sleeves.
She sensed me watching.
"Say it," Alice said without turning. "Whatever it is you’re thinking, just say it."
I exhaled slowly and stepped closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear.
"Lady Alice. After the banquet, could you spare me a moment of your time?"
She didn’t respond immediately. Her posture stiffened just slightly—enough for me to notice.
Originally, a knight proved his honor with a sword.
But nobles were expected to defend theirs with more than steel. With words. With restraint. With judgment.
Tonight wasn’t about force.
It was time for a more... targeted lesson.
One meant for the sharpest tongue in the hall.
---
’It feels heavier today.’
Alice released a quiet sigh as she stood alone, the distant sounds of the banquet fading into the background.
The silver-haired noblewoman—heir to a proud lineage, bearer of an unyielding name.
Draken.
The weight of it pressed down on her shoulders, even though nothing rested there.
’I must endure. I can’t tarnish the Draken name.’
If rumors of discord between herself and the prince began to circulate—
She stopped herself.
No.
There was no point in indulging those thoughts.
She shook her head slightly, as if to physically drive them away.
"Right," she murmured to herself. "Julies said to meet tonight."
Forget the unease. Forget the noise.
Alice straightened her back and waited.
Strangely enough, the thought of the prince—her future husband—still made her chest feel tight, as it always had.
But thinking of Julies...
"...It brings me peace," she admitted quietly.
That realization startled her.
It hadn’t been long. Only a few months since he had become her servant.
Yet every day spent with him felt different. Lighter. Clearer.
Even earlier, during the banquet—
She found herself recalling the moment again.
How he had stepped forward without even a breath of hesitation.
Not to challenge.
Not to escalate.
But to protect.
Her honor.
It was... strange.
Most men, when faced with that situation, would have sought glory—or at least the satisfaction of proving themselves. Julies had done neither. He had placed himself between her and chaos as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Her lips curved faintly.
At the same time, another memory surfaced—one far less dignified, yet oddly vivid.
A scene from the banquet hall.
—Are you joking?
—You’re my fiancé! You’re going to visit a lady’s room in the middle of the night?
Amelia’s voice had been sharp, brimming with indignation.
—What a strange thing to say, Julies had replied calmly. It’s part of my duties as a servant. Rest assured. There will be no cause for Lady Amelia’s unease.
She could still picture it clearly.
Julies patting Amelia’s shoulder with an almost absurd gentleness, murmuring reassurances while Amelia glared daggers at anyone within a five-meter radius.
Somehow, despite herself, Alice hadn’t found that jealous gaze entirely unpleasant.
"...Really," she muttered quietly, leaning back against the sofa.
"What does he want this time?"
Knock. Knock.
The sound cut through her thoughts.
She straightened slightly.
"Come in."
"Yes, I will come in," came the familiar, polite reply.
It truly hadn’t been long since they had parted ways at the banquet.
The door opened smoothly.
"Julies. ...And a demon."
Her eyes immediately went to the second figure.
"Isn’t the temperature difference severe?" Alice added dryly.
Julies stood there, impeccably dressed in his butler’s attire—clean lines, neat gloves, posture flawless as ever.
Beside him stood a face she did not welcome.
"Why did you bring that unimpressive maid?" Alice asked bluntly, her gaze sharp.
The demon maid—Velra bowed stiffly, her expression clearly strained.
Of course, If Velra could she won’t bow her head to human, especially Alice.
...buts she’s in no position to complain.
"She’s of help too," Julies replied simply.
Alice clicked her tongue.
"That thing barely looks capable of brewing tea properly."
Velra bristled.
"I’ll have you know—"
Julies raised a hand slightly.
"She is quite good at tea," he said mildly. "And reconnaissance. And magic detection."
"...You’re not helping your case," Alice muttered.
Julies, as always, smiled gently and inclined his head toward her.
"My apologies, Lady Alice. But given the nature of the matter, I judged it safer to bring her along."
Her gaze sharpened.
"So it is something serious."
"Do I really need to be here?" Velra asked, arms folded beneath her chest. Her tone was light, but there was no mistaking the irritation beneath it. "I feel extremely unwanted."
"You are," Alice replied without missing a beat. "But you’re already inside, so speak if you must."
The words were clipped, precise—delivered with the practiced coldness of a noble who had learned early that courtesy and warmth were not the same thing.
Julies suppressed a small cough, stepping in before the air could freeze any further.
"Lady Alice," he said mildly, drawing her attention. "Didn’t you once say it would be better to learn eloquence from experience than from a tutor buried in books?"
Alice glanced at him, clearly caught off guard.
"That’s true, but—"
"I’ve also been asked by the Duke," Julies continued smoothly, not raising his voice, not pressing too hard. "To assist you. To help you become a... well-rounded noble."
There it was.
Alice frowned faintly.
Why him?
They were the same age.
He wasn’t her senior, nor a famed court scholar.
And yet—
She looked at him properly this time.
Julies stood straight, relaxed, neither stiff nor careless. His expression was gentle, but there was something steady behind it—an ease that came not from confidence alone, but from experience. Not battlefield bravado. Not youthful pride.
Something closer to Count Frost.
...No.
Closer to her father.
That calm smile—unassuming, composed—was unmistakable.
The kind worn by nobles who had survived political storms without ever raising their voices.
Velra noticed it too.
Her golden eyes narrowed slightly, not in hostility, but in recognition.
"...Interesting," she murmured.
Julies turned back to Alice and inclined his head just slightly.
"May I offer you some modest advice, my lady?"
His tone was respectful, but not submissive. Firm, but not overbearing.
The kind of tone used not to command—but to guide.
Alice hesitated.
Only for a moment.
Then, almost against her will, she nodded.
"...Fine," she said. "Go on."
Julies smiled faintly, as if he’d expected no other answer.
"You don’t need to bare your teeth every time you sense hostility," he began. "Especially not here."
Velra snorted softly.
"That advice applies to you as well, little knight."
Alice shot her a glare. "Stay out of this."
Julies raised a hand gently, defusing the exchange before it could spark.
"Lady Alice," he continued, "everyone in this room already knows your strength. Your lineage. Your reputation. You don’t need to reinforce it with sharp words."
Alice crossed her arms. "And if I don’t?"
"Then people will fear you," Julies replied calmly. "But they won’t follow you."
The words landed heavier than any insult.
Silence stretched.
Alice opened her mouth—then closed it again.
"...That’s easy for you to say," she muttered. "You don’t have demons kneeling in front of you every day."
Velra raised an eyebrow.
"For the record, I am standing."
Julies ignored that.
"Fear has its uses," he said. "But authority built on fear alone collapses the moment your back is turned."
He glanced briefly at Velra—not accusingly, not defensively.
"Right now, you’re not dealing with a conquered enemy," he added. "You’re dealing with a political liability."
Velra smiled thinly.
"How flattering."
"And liabilities," Julies continued, "are handled with control, not emotion."
Alice looked away, jaw tight.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then, quietly, "You’re telling me to tolerate her."
"I’m telling you to manage her," Julies corrected. "There’s a difference."
Velra tilted her head, amused.
"He speaks as if I’m a troublesome artifact."
Julies finally glanced at her.
"That’s because you are."
Velra blinked.
Then laughed—softly, genuinely.
"...I like him."
Alice sighed, rubbing her temple.
"This is exhausting."
...But Julies isn’t done yet.
The lesson was just began.