That night, after the tea party had ended and the manor had fallen quiet, Bertia and I finished preparing for bed. Once the attendants had withdrawn and the door shut behind them, she turned to me with a rare, serious look.
“Lord Cecil, I remembered something important today.”
“I know,” I said softly. “It’s about the Saintess and the Serpent God, isn’t it?”
“Yes, the Saintess and the Serp—” Her eyes flew wide open, her head snapping up in shock. “Wait, how did you know?!”
Her expression was so perfectly adorably startled that I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“At the tea party, when they told the legend of Seahealby’s founding, your expression changed,” I said. “That’s when I figured it must have something to do with the novel.”
“Oh dear, was it that obvious?” she asked, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.
“Not to anyone else. I just always watch you. That’s all.”
That earned me an even deeper flush. Bertia looked away, fidgeting with a strand of her hair as though the movement could hide her smile.
“I’m glad no one else noticed,” she murmured. “Anyway, about the Saintess…”
“I’m listening.”
Her expression clouded over, that bright spark in her eyes dimming as she began to speak.
Piece by piece, she told me what she’d recalled from the novel. It was a continuation of the Seahealby legend but set in the “present day” of that story.
According to it, war once again tainted the seas with blood, enraging the Serpent God anew. This time, the ones chosen to soothe its fury were June, who became the new Saintess, and Prince Izlarich, who aided her. Together, they calmed the god’s wrath and restored peace.
However, one detail caught my attention.
“Hey, Tia,” I said, “this war you’re talking about… I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
“What do you mean?! It was part of the novel’s story!”
“I’m sure it was. But the war in that story, if I remember correctly, was an offshoot of another conflict. A war that started between Alphasta and a neighboring country.”
“Wait. Then does that mean Alphasta will be dragged into war?!”
“No. Not a chance. I’ve already eliminated anything that could lead to that. Any political tension, any faction that might stir up trouble is gone.”
She blinked, startled by the matter-of-factness of my tone.
“Besides,” I added with a faint smile, “in that otome game scenario you once told me about, weren’t most of those wars tied to me somehow? I’m the one who triggers most of the conflicts, right?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then we’re safe. Because you and I are walking the route you called the only peaceful one.”
“Eh? Is that what you meant?!” Bertia blinked rapidly, her voice a mix of surprise and fragile hope. “But there’s still a chance, isn’t there?! After all, this isn’t an otome game event. It’s from the novel!”
For a fleeting moment, relief softened her expression, but it vanished as quickly as it came, swallowed by uncertainty.
She wasn’t wrong. I could only guess at this point. If this so-called novel followed a different thread from the game, then there might indeed be some unforeseen variable waiting to surface.
If the issue concerned Alphasta, I’d have no worries. My network of information spread through every layer of the kingdom; little escaped my attention. But this time, the potential problem lay in Seahealby, beyond our borders. And there, my reach was limited.
“I still think everything will be fine,” I told her calmly. “But just to be sure, I’ll look into the situation around this region.”
Her eyes softened with gratitude tinged by guilt. “I’m so sorry for troubling you, Lord Cecil. Thank you.”
Before she could bow any lower, I reached out and gently ran my fingers through her hair.
“Hey,” I said softly. “You don’t need to worry so much.”
“But I do!” she said, her voice trembling. “I’d forgotten that Lady June becomes the Saintess. So I thought… if everyone just got along, maybe there’d be no need for me to act as the stand-in villainess anymore. I let myself relax! But if Lady June and Prince Izlarich’s bond hasn’t deepened enough to fulfill her Saintess role because I failed to push the story along…”
Her eyes shimmered with tears, her words breaking with remorse.
I sighed inwardly. Truly, this wasn’t her burden to carry. The fate of another nation had nothing to do with the Crown Princess of Alphasta, and yet, she worried as if the whole world might collapse from her single misstep.
Perhaps that was one of the reasons I loved her so deeply, because she cared—too much, sometimes—for people and things far beyond her reach.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I said gently. “The chance of war breaking out is low, and if any troubling signs appear, I’ll pass the information directly to Crown Prince Aleis. He can act before anything spirals.”
“I— I still think maybe I should become Lady June’s rival. A proper stand-in villainess!”
“No, really, you don’t have to. Let’s just wait and see, all right?”
“But what if it’s too late by then?! If I don’t become the villainess soon, the story won’t progress as it should! Oh no, but Lady June’s so sweet and she adores me! How am I supposed to treat her cruelly?!”
“Tia. I’m going to repeat this very carefully. You. Don’t. Need. To.”
“Aaaah, what am I supposed to dooo?”
“Yes,” I sighed. “You’ve stopped hearing me entirely, haven’t you? For now, just sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow when your brain’s no longer on fire.”
I gently pushed her down onto the bed, tucking the covers around her before she could spiral further. Within minutes, her breathing evened out, soft and slow against my shoulder.
I brushed a stray curl from her cheek and murmured under my breath, “Let’s just hope you don’t wake up tomorrow ready to start another grand ‘villainess’ campaign.”