The transition from the swan-feather bed to the cold stone of the training courtyard was a brutal reality check.
The Duke was gone.
The butler mentioned he had departed for the Imperial Capital at dawn to "handle the fallout" of the failed assassination.
In his place stood a man who looked like he was carved from a cliffside—Captain Kael of the Night-Walkers.
I didn't wear the black uniform. It felt like a shroud, heavy and suffocating.
Instead, I opted for a loose, large-collar white shirt. It was light, airy, and gave my arms the range of motion I needed.
"A peasant in a silk shirt," Kael drawled, tossing a heavy practice sword toward me. "The Young Lady has strange taste in stray dogs."
I caught the hilt. It was weighted with lead. My ribs screamed as the momentum pulled on my stitches.
Random Strength vs. a mid-boss Captain, I thought, my grip tightening. This is a slaughter.
"If you cannot touch my breastplate by noon, you do not eat," Kael said, drawing a slender, blunted rapier. "And if you drop that sword, I will break your fingers."
The next four hours were a blur of violence
he moved like a flickering shadow.
Every time I tried to close the gap, his rapier hissed through the air, stinging my forearms and shoulders with pinpoint accuracy.
I lunged, aiming for a "Clipping Strike" I knew from the game—a move that should have bypassed his guard—but Kael simply stepped an inch to the left and hammered his hilt into my solar plexus.
The world turned white. I hit the gravel, gasping for air
My timing is off, I hissed internally, spitting blood. The frame data in my head doesn't match this body's lag. I am playing a high-speed game on a dial-up connection.
"Stand up," Kael commanded.
"Again."
I snarled, forcing my shaking legs to lock. I threw away the traditional stance.
If I couldn't out-skill him, I had to out-glitch him. As he lunged,
I threw the heavy sword into the air, distracting his eyes for a split second, and dived into the dirt, kicking a wave of grit toward his face.
Kael didn't even blink. He swiped the air, the sheer wind from his blade clearing the dust instantly.
He caught me mid-roll with a kick to the ribs that sent me spinning across the courtyard.
By the time the sun hit its peak, I was a wreck.
My white shirt was shredded at the shoulders, stained with dirt and blooming red circles. I hadn't touched him once.
"Noon," Kael announced, sheathing his blade with a crisp, metallic click. "You failed. You stay here until the sun sets. No food. No rest."
"Wait," I croaked, pushing myself up with a trembling hand. My vision was swimming.
"The Duke's orders were absolute, boy."
"Alisa hasn't eaten yet," I said, locking my eyes onto his.
"The butler said she is waiting for me. If she goes into a mana-fit because her blood sugar dropped, are you going to be the one to tell the Duke why his palace is a smoking crater?"
Kael paused. His eyes narrowed. In the game, the Captain was a man of cold logic.
He knew the "Calamity" was a ticking time bomb, and I was the only thing currently keeping the fuse from lighting.
"Very well...," Kael muttered, a flash of genuine annoyance crossing his face.
"Perhaps the brat is more troublesome than the Inquisition. Go. But do not think this is a victory. You are still weak as a street dog."
I didn't care about his pride. The moment he stepped back, the adrenaline that had been keeping my skeleton upright evaporated,
leaving nothing but lead in my veins.
Every muscle in my body was screaming for me to just collapse right there on the gravel.
I wanted to crawl back to that swan-feather bed, scrub the grime and copper-tasting blood off my skin under a steaming shower, and sleep for a century.
Ican't, I hissed at myself, my vision flickering. If I drop now, Kael wins. If I don't show up, Alisa breaks.
In the game, Alisa's "instability" wasn't just a mechanic; it was a tragedy. She was a girl who had been treated like a bomb her entire life. I was the only person who looked at her and saw a girl instead of a countdown.
If I stopped now, if I let this exhaustion take me, she would be alone in that massive, cold dining hall with nothing but her own terrifying power for company.
I forced one foot in front of the other.
The walk to the manor felt longer than the trek from my village to the Capital.
Just ten more meters. Just don't faint
in the hallway.
I pushed through the grand doors, my legs turning to jelly.
The room was deathly silent. Alisa was sitting at the far end of a table that could seat fifty, her rose-pink hair shielding her face as she stared at a plate of cold eggs.
The moment she saw me—bruised, bleeding through my white shirt, and barely holding onto consciousness—her eyes didn't just light up. They ignited.
"Leo!" she shrieked.
The silver fork in her hand snapped like a twig from the sheer pressure of her mana.
She scrambled out of her chair, her boots thudding against the carpet as she ran toward me, catching me just before my knees gave out.
"I am fine," I lied, the ceiling tilting dangerously. "Just... a training accident."
"who did this to you?," she whispered.
Her voice dropped into that dangerous, vibrating register that made the windowpane rattle.
The shadows in the corners of the room began to crawl toward the center like
living oil. "I will kill him. I will burn that courtyard until the stones turn to glass."
Shit. Major Calamity Event incoming.
I reached out, grabbing her wrist with my last ounce of strength. "Alisa, look at me."
She stopped, The red in her eyes was swirling, reflecting a power she couldn't yet control.
"I am the one who promised to protect you, remember?" I said, forcing a weary, blood-toothed smile.
"If you burn the house down, I have nowhere to sleep. And I am really, really hungry."
The shadows retreated instantly. The freezing temperature in the room climbed back to normal.
She looked at my hand on her wrist, then back at my battered face.
"You... you are a big, stupid idiot," she sobbed, burying her face in my dirt-stained shirt. "A village-idiot who doesn't know when to quit."
Yeah, I thought, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. But at least the world didn't end before breakfast.
I looked down at my shirt, which was now more mud than fabric, and then back at the pristine white tablecloth.
The nausea from the training was fading, replaced by a desperate, itching need to scrub the courtyard off my skin.
"Alisa, I need to stop. I am going to take a shower before I ruin this expensive chair," I said, pushing back from the table.
Alisa didn't skip a beat. She looked up, her expression completely earnest.
"Very well. I shall join you. It has been a long time since we shared a bath, Leo."
My brain stalled. It didn't just stall; it crashed.
What?! The piece of bacon I was holding dropped onto my plate with a dull thud.
I stared at her, my mouth hanging open like a landed fish. My mind raced through the game lore—there was no "bath scene" in the prologue. This was a catastrophic deviation from the script.
"You... you want to what?" I stammered, my face heating up so fast I thought my stitches might melt.
"Join you," she repeated, tilting her head as if I were the one being strange.
"Back in the village, when we were seven, we used to splash in the creek all the time. Why are you making that face? Your ears are turning purple."
Because we aren't seven anymore, and you are the daughter of a Duke who would have me flayed if I stepped within an inch of your bathroom! I screamed internally.
"Alisa, that was the village. This is the Capital. There are... protocols. Laws. Common sense!"
"I am the Young Lady of this house," she said, her voice dropping into that stubborn, noble tone.
"If I say we share a bath to save time, then we share a bath. Besides, you are hurt. You cannot even reach your own back to scrub the dirt off. Indeed, it is only logical that I help my guard."
Logical? There is zero logic here! I looked at the butler, praying for an intervention.
He just stood there, adjusting his white gloves with terrifying neutrality. He wasn't going to save me. He was probably going to hand her the soap.
"It is not happening," I said, standing up so fast the chair creaked. "I am going to my room. Alone. I will lock the door."
Alisa stood up too, her eyes narrowing. "You would deny your Master's request? After I waited all morning for you?"
"This is not a 'request,' it's a death sentence!" I hissed, backing away toward the door.
"If the Duke finds out, he won't just kill me. He will delete my entire bloodline from history!"
"Father isn't in the Capital," she countered, crossing her arms. "And the maids know better than to talk.
Why are you being so difficult, Leo?
Are you hiding something? you have grown a tail since the last time I saw you?"
"I have not grown a tail! I have grown a sense of self-preservation!"
I turned and bolted for the hallway, my heart hammering against my ribs harder than it had during the fight with Kael.
"I am coming with you anyway!" she shouted after me.
I am going to die, I thought, sprinting toward my new quarters. I survived an assassin and a High-Level
Captain just to be taken out by a ten-year-old's lack of boundaries. This truly is the worst game ever made.