For the first time in what felt like weeks—
I had absolutely nothing to do.
No emergencies.
No demons trying to eat me.
No aristocrats glaring at each other over my unconscious body.
Just... silence.
Alice had challenged me to spar earlier, but after visiting the Duke’s office, she disappeared straight into her room and hadn’t come out since.
Which meant she was either thinking very hard—
—or very angry.
Possibly both.
"Velra?" I called, glancing at the floor beside my bed. "You need to eat. And breathe air. And technically you’re still assigned as my maid, so hiding in my shadow counts as neglecting your duties."
Silence.
My shadow rippled faintly in protest.
She didn’t respond.
Not a word.
Not even a dramatic scoff.
...She was sulking.
Over what? Alice’s comments? Being called a maid?
All of the above, probably.
Before I could try again—
—Grrrrrrowl.
I looked down.
Verren, the snow lion and self-proclaimed tyrant of the courtyard, was gnawing on the hem of my coat.
"Hey. That’s expensive."
—Rrrrnnnh.
He scratched at the door.
Scratched harder.
Then looked at me like I had personally betrayed him.
"I fed you monster meat an hour ago."
—Grrrrowl.
"You’re a lion, not a bottomless pit."
—RRAAAHHH.
He tugged harder.
I sighed.
"Can’t tell if you’re a predator or a pig."
That earned me an indignant snort.
Then, to my utter disbelief, Verren rose on his hind legs, pressed both massive paws against the door handle—
—and pushed.
Click.
The door swung open.
I stared.
"...You’ve been able to do that this whole time?"
He huffed once through his nose, proud and unapologetic.
Then trotted into the hallway, looked back at me, and released a short, commanding roar.
Follow me.
I rubbed my face.
"To think a lion’s life could be this grand."
I didn’t own a dog. Never had.
But I’d watched enough random pet videos late at night to recognize the look.
He wanted a walk.
"Fine," I muttered. "Since I’ve got nothing better to do. Let’s patrol a bit."
—Rrraah!
His tail lashed so hard it nearly knocked over a decorative vase.
We stepped outside.
The North greeted us with its usual quiet majesty.
Snow blanketed the world in clean white silence. The wind swept across the fields in long, sighing breaths, brushing my face with sharp cold.
It stung—
—but it was honest.
No politics in the wind.
No manipulation in falling snow.
Just winter.
We followed the faint tracks pressed into the frost-covered ground, Verren sniffing ahead with exaggerated seriousness.
I tucked my hands into my coat.
’I think I understand how Alice feels.’
Up here, the world was simple.
Clear.
If something wanted to kill you, it showed its teeth.
If something cared, it stood beside you.
No hidden agendas.
No ancient grudges stretching across centuries.
Verren suddenly stopped.
His ears twitched.
"What is it?"
He sniffed the air, then pawed at a mound of snow.
I stepped closer.
"...You’re kidding."
He had found a half-buried food storage crate one of the outer guards must’ve dropped during patrol.
Verren looked at me.
Then at the crate.
Then back at me.
"No."
—Rrrrmmm.
"No."
—Grrrrowl.
"You are not eating emergency rations."
He flopped dramatically into the snow with a heavy huff.
"I really shouldn’t have time for this..."
Somehow—by luck, timing, and a questionable amount of interference—I had delayed the early union between the Saint and the Crown Prince.
Delayed.
Not prevented.
That distinction mattered.
The real battlefield wouldn’t begin until next year.
"The Imperial Year 1195..." I exhaled slowly. "That’s when academy enrollment starts."
Once we entered the Imperial Academy, the original storyline would properly unfold. Political factions. Romantic routes. Hidden events. Flag triggers.
And bad endings.
Especially Alice’s.
I sat up, ignoring the dull ache in my ribs.
"I need to plan this properly."
First objective: pair the Saint with a different male lead.
Second: keep Alice away from the Crown Prince.
Third: maneuver things so that if the engagement collapses, the Crown Prince takes the blame.
All three were necessary if I wanted to avoid the catastrophe that originally spiraled into Alice’s downfall.
I rubbed my temple.
"And every single one of those is a nightmare."
Finding an alternative partner for the Saint wasn’t the hard part. Despite the game dressing itself up as an epic RPG about demons and divine contracts, at its core it was still a dating sim.
There were options. Plenty of them.
The genius mage from the east.
The stoic knight commander’s son.
Even the soft-spoken second prince who had suspiciously high affection growth.
No shortage of candidates.
The real problem was the Crown Prince.
"Power really is the ultimate law..."
His position alone tied everyone’s hands.
Alice’s family—House Draken—would never break the engagement first. That would be seen as defiance against the throne.
Political suicide.
But the Crown Prince, obsessed with his public image and imperial dignity, wouldn’t withdraw either.
Which led to the worst-case scenario in the original route:
The Prince grows close to the Saint.
Rumors spread.
Alice confronts the Saint.
Someone pushes too far.
An "incident" occurs.
And then—
Alice becomes the villain.
I clenched my fist.
"Should I just let it happen... and intervene later?"
No.
Too risky.
Once emotions spiraled, there would be no clean way to fix it.
I needed control early.
Not brute force.
Influence.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the documents on my desk.
"My name needs to spread."
Not as a background servant.
Not as a faceless retainer.
As someone visible.
Respected.
Dangerous enough to be taken seriously.
If I built my own standing inside the academy, I’d gain leverage. People would hesitate before targeting Alice recklessly if she had capable support.
And the most effective way?
I smiled faintly.
"A duel."
Among nobles, nothing spread faster than a spectacle.
A servant or knight stepping forward at a social gathering to defend their lady’s honor—
risking their life without hesitation—
That kind of story traveled through dormitories and noble houses overnight.
It built loyalty.
Reputation.
Romanticized legend.