Morning light spilled through Niana Valeris's curtains far too cheerfully for a woman who had, the night before, derailed a major plot point of her own story.
She sat at her desk, hair half-pinned, quill hovering uselessly above parchment.
Lucien stood by the window, as composed as ever.
"The underground auction house was raided at dawn," he said calmly. "By order of the crown."
Niana did not look up.
"…Let me guess."
"Prince Kael led the operation."
Her quill paused. Then scratched once. Then stopped.
"…Of course he did."
Lucien glanced over. "You are not surprised."
"I would've been shocked if he didn't," she muttered. Internally, her thoughts were much louder.
I knew.
That auction was always doomed.
That was literally the point.
What wasn't supposed to happen was me.
The problem wasn't the raid.
The problem was the heroine.
She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling.
I took her first.
In the original story, Prince Kael was meant to discover her there—bloodied but unbroken, chained but radiant, a saintess hidden among cruelty. Their meeting was dramatic. Symbolic. Fate-laced.
Instead…
I bought her with money and attitude.
Niana groaned softly and covered her face with one hand.
Lucien tilted his head. "…Is there a headache?"
"No," she said weakly. "Just… narrative consequences."
He did not ask what that meant.
She straightened again as another thought struck her.
"Today," she murmured.
Lucien's eyes sharpened slightly. "Yes. Today Prince Kael assembles his squad."
Her stomach flipped.
He invited me.
Of course he did. Politically, it made sense. A Duchess blessing a royal-led unit was optics gold.
But the squad—
Her gaze dropped to the open book on her desk.
She flipped the page.
And froze.
"…Oh no."
Lucien noticed instantly. "What is it?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes skimmed names she knew far too well.
Prince Kael — the crown, the sword, the unwavering center.
The heroine — the saintess, gentle, luminous, the heart of it all.
And the other two—
She shut the book.
Too late. Her brain supplied the memories anyway.
The loyal knight, stoic and scarred, who fell first and hardest.
The silver-tongued mage, smiling like trouble, whose devotion bordered on dangerous.
The four of them together—
Her face heated.
No.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
She cleared her throat sharply and reached for her quill, scribbling nonsense words with far too much force.
Lucien watched in silence.
"…Your Grace," he said after a moment, "your ears are red."
"They are not."
"They are," he replied neutrally, "the exact shade they were when you accidentally drank spiced wine meant for decoration."
Niana froze.
"…Lucien."
"Yes?"
"Have you ever," she said carefully, "read something and immediately wished you could unread it?"
"…Frequently."
She exhaled. "Good. Because apparently my past self had ideas."
She stopped writing abruptly, slamming the book shut.
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "You have ceased… whatever that was."
"I am not thinking about it," she said firmly.
"…Thinking about what?"
She stood up too fast. "Nothing."
Lucien's gaze lingered on her—measured, thoughtful.
"…Prince Kael will arrive within the hour," he said instead. "Shall I prepare the reception room?"
Niana swallowed.
"Yes," she said. "Please."
As Lucien turned to leave, she sank back into her chair.
The story had changed.
The heroine was already out of her cage.
The squad was forming anyway.
And somehow—
She, the supposed supporting character, was standing right in the middle of it.
"…This is fine," Niana muttered, staring at the ceiling again.
Nothing about it was fine.
---
The reception hall of the House of Valeris had never felt so crowded.
Sunlight spilled through tall arched windows, glinting off polished marble and gold-trimmed banners bearing the sigil of Valeris. The room was built for diplomacy—measured words, controlled smiles, quiet power.
And yet—
This felt like fate forcing everyone into the same frame.
Prince Kael sat at the center, posture straight, black hair tied neatly at his nape. He wore court attire rather than armor, but there was no mistaking him for anything other than a man meant to lead. His presence alone commanded attention—steady, composed, inevitable.
To his right stood Sir Aurelian Drake, captain of the royal knights.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in formal uniform that barely concealed a lifetime of battle. A thin scar cut across his jaw, his expression unreadable, eyes sharp as if the war had already begun in his mind. He stood with the stillness of someone who knew exactly when to move—and when not to.
To Kael's left leaned Eryx Vale, court mage and prodigy.
Silver hair fell loosely past his shoulders, lips curved in a faint, amused smile. His eyes gleamed with curiosity rather than caution, as if the world itself were a puzzle he enjoyed dismantling. Of the three, he looked the most relaxed—and somehow, the most dangerous.
Three men.
The core of the squad.
Niana sat opposite them, hands folded neatly in her lap, spine straight, expression composed.
Internally, she was losing her mind.
Oh wow.
It's really them.
All three in one place.
This is not supposed to happen this fast.
"This assembly," Prince Kael began, his voice calm and practiced, "marks the beginning of our campaign against the rising monster threat. Each of you has been chosen for your strength, loyalty, and resolve."
Sir Aurelian inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Eryx merely smiled, as if Kael were announcing something mildly entertaining.
Kael's gaze then shifted—settling on her.
"And you, Lady Niana Valeris," he continued, "were invited not as a combatant—but as a pillar. The House of Valeris stands as Keeper of the Divine Word. Your presence lends legitimacy to this cause."
Niana smiled.
Perfectly polite. Perfectly harmless.
"Your Highness honors me," she replied. "I am merely here to observe… and to offer support where appropriate."
Eryx's eyes flicked toward her, interest sharpening.
"Support," he echoed lightly. "You say that but you are the most important being in this room."
She let out a soft laugh. "Is it? I just read. Excessively."
Sir Aurelian huffed under his breath, arms crossing.
Eryx's smile widened.
Kael was about to speak again when—
"Your Highness."
Lucien stepped forward.
As always, his timing was flawless.
He bowed, precise and respectful, golden hair catching the light. "With your permission, there is someone Lady Niana wishes to formally introduce."
Niana's heart skipped.
Oh.
Oh no.
This is really happening.
Kael nodded. "Of course."
Lucien turned toward the side door.
"Please," he said evenly, "enter."
The doors opened.
She stepped inside hesitantly.
The air changed.
She was delicate—almost fragile in appearance. Soft ash-blonde hair framed her face in gentle waves, her blue eyes clear and luminous, reflecting light far too easily. She wore simple white garments, unadorned, yet somehow more striking than silk and jewels.
The Saintess.
Niana's chest tightened.
There you are.
Right on time.
Lucien spoke, voice calm and formal.
"Your Highness," Niana said, "allow me to present Serena Lioré."
The name settled into the room like prophecy.
"She is essential to this journey," Niana continued. "According to the Divine Word, the success of this campaign is… exceedingly high should she accompany your squad."
Kael's eyes widened—just slightly.
Eryx straightened, interest blazing openly now.
Sir Aurelian turned fully toward Serena, gaze sharpening with sudden intensity.
Niana kept her smile gentle.
Inside, her thoughts raced.
Good.
They've met.
The story is back on track… right?
She watched the four of them—Kael, Aurelian, Eryx, and Serena—standing at the center of the room.
The heroes.
The saintess.
And herself—
The supporting character who wasn't supposed to matter.
Yet for some reason…
The story had started revolving around her anyway.