Player Chapter 9. Unscripted?
Elena had practiced that smile for a year. The calm one. The Saint one. The "everything is under control even if it absolutely is not" smile. It came with posture, shoulders relaxed but straight, chin level, hands folded gently so no one could see when her fingers trembled. She wore it like armor. Softer than steel, but just as necessary.
And right now? It was doing absolutely nothing to protect her heart.
Because he looked back at her with that lazy, unreadable gaze like he was the one evaluating destiny and not the other way around.
She felt it again. That strange pull.
'Stop it,' she told herself calmly. 'He is an NPC!'
He cleared his throat slightly. "Before anything else. I'll confess something."
Her heart skipped. Confess?
'Why does that word sound so dramatic. Calm down. He's not proposing.'
"I'm not from here," he said casually, like he was commenting on the weather. "I landed in the Empress' chamber by mistake. Let's say teleportation error."
She blinked.
Teleportation error.
He said it so smoothly. Like it happened every Tuesday.
Her pulse quickened, but not in fear. Recognition. That phrasing. That nonchalance. That weird detached tone.
"Not from here."
She had heard similar words once before. In a mirror.
But she didn't let it show. Not fully.
"You have zero knowledge of what is happening?" she asked gently.
"Zero," he replied. "Which is inconvenient."
She exhaled slowly. Okay. This was fine. Information first. Emotional crisis later.
"This is Dawn Haven," she began, turning slightly so they stood side by side rather than face to face. Less confrontational. More collaborative. "The main city where people gather to resist the Night Kingdom."
She gestured vaguely toward the stained glass windows, where faint artistic depictions of battles glowed in colored light.
"The Night Kingdom belongs to the Vampire Empress. Over the past year… attacks have escalated."
Her jaw tightened slightly. She hated this part.
"Villages burned. Caravans raided. Chaos. Sometimes she orders destruction publicly. Sometimes she denies involvement and claims innocence."
Her calm cracked just a little.
"She plays victim," Elena said, and this time irritation bled through. "She claims the vampires only want to live peacefully. That the Light Temple lies."
She scoffed softly. "I have never known a coward like her."
The words slipped out sharper than she intended.
Oh. That wasn't very Saint-like.
She folded her hands tighter to steady herself.
"The Empire cannot tolerate it. But vampires are undead. That makes them the Light Temple's responsibility. So…" she inhaled, steadying her tone, "…we ordered the paladins and adventurers to kill the Empress. Once the Night Kingdom loses its leader, it will collapse."
She finished. Calm again. Controlled.
Silence lingered.
Then he frowned slightly.
"Wait," he said. "So before this… were there times when vampires and humans lived side by side?"
The question surprised her. Most adventurers didn't care about historical nuance. They cared about loot tables.
"Not exactly peacefully," she admitted. "But not… like this."
His eyes sharpened. Not angry. Thinking.
"Have you seen the attacks yourself?" he asked.
Her breath caught.
"Not directly," she said quietly. "I go after. I heal survivors."
The word survivors hung heavy.
"Sadly, not everyone can be resurrected," she added softly. "Only those who have received the Light Temple's Blessing. And…" she hesitated. "The blessing is rarely granted to normal civilians. Children. Elders."
The silence that followed was thick.
She watched him carefully.
He didn't look outraged. He didn't look horrified. He looked… analytical.
Which somehow hurt more.
Because that meant he was measuring the system. Not reacting emotionally to it.
'This is not simple,' she realized suddenly.
The thought slid into her mind like cold water.
He's not accepting the narrative at face value.
And a tiny, dangerous part of her… liked that.
Because if she was being brutally honest with herself, there had been inconsistencies. Whispers. Reports that didn't align.
But she had responsibilities.
She couldn't afford doubt.
"Can you help us?" she asked finally.
It came out softer than intended.
She stepped closer and placed her hand gently on his shoulder.
It was meant to be reassuring. A Saint's gesture. Encouraging.
But the second her fingers touched fabric over muscle…
Oh.
Her pulse jumped like she'd just grabbed an exposed wire.
He turned his head slowly to look at her.
And that look.
Oh no.
That was not adventurer confusion. Not humble warrior gratitude.
That was something that should belong to the rich heir of the real world.
She knew the type. The calm, composed, media-trained heir who looked at cameras like they were beneath him but still deserved his attention. The "I run companies at breakfast" energy. The dangerous, polished charm that didn't even need to try.
Her heart started racing.
He's handsome.
Annoyingly handsome.
Like unfairly symmetrical jawline, irritatingly sharp eyes, model in a fashion campaign handsome.
And he wasn't even trying.
Her cheeks warmed. She could feel it. Heat creeping up from collar to ears.
'Stop. Stop blushing. You are the Holy Saint!'
She swallowed.
He held her gaze just long enough. Not smirking. Not flirting. Just… aware.
And damn him for being aware.
Her thoughts spiraled.
'He's an NPC. He has to be. That's how this works. I'm the transmigrator. I'm the trapped one. He's coded. Scripted!'
So why does he feel… unscripted?
She'd been here a year. One full year trapped in a game she once played casually on her mobile console during late-night study breaks. Back then, the Vampire Empress was just a boss. A grind wall. A cutscene villain.
Now? She healed burned children. She buried paladins. She carried weight.
She had one goal: kill the Empress. Break the narrative. Maybe unlock an exit condition.
Maybe go home.
Back to her apartment. Back to shopping with bubble tea in her hand. Back to WiFi and air conditioning.
Purity was part of the Saint's role. The script was clear. No romance. No distractions. The Saint inspires hope, not scandal.
'So why is my heart acting like a teenage fangirl at a fan meeting?'
She gently removed her hand from his shoulder before she did something reckless like leave it there longer than appropriate.