After a month and a half of being catered to and trained as a proper lady, Cecilia, the heroine, grew tired of the upheaval in her life and fled her father’s estate. In mid-May, donning a set of commoner’s clothes she’d hidden from him, she absconded to the Lower District, only to find herself lost in the massive city. Eventually finding her way to a large, bustling street, Cecilia wandered in a confused daze, ultimately stumbling into a gang of bad characters.
“Whoa there, Miss, look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined my finest clothes.”
“I-I’m so sorry.”
Fruit juice splattered the front of the man’s shirt when Cecilia bumped into him, but that wasn’t exactly a natural series of events. The situation was dubious at best.
“Wouldn’t have knights and guards if ‘sorry’ was enough to cut it, but maybe your family can make this right.”
“I-I…”
The man and his entourage encircled Cecilia. She didn’t know what to do. Telling her family anything seemed like the worst possible option when she’d just run away from home.
The man sneered. He knew this game well. “Look, I’m not out to swindle anybody. I just need these clothes, see? Maybe you could come home with me. Wash this stain out.”
“Really? Will that settle this?” Cecilia relaxed. She’d done laundry all the time when she was a commoner. She could agree to these terms. This way, her father didn’t have to get involved.
Perhaps if she hadn’t been so concerned with her father, she might have noticed the dark intentions shadowing the man’s face. “Just follow m—”
Before the man could close his hand around Cecilia’s, a cup came flying at his face and fruit juice soaked him all over again. Cecilia’s handiwork blended into this new, far less humble splotch as it seeped down his clothing. Cecilia and the man’s flunkies could only gape.
Then someone grabbed Cecilia’s arm and yanked her back. “Stop gawking and let’s move.”
This new, hooded man tugged again, forcing Cecilia to run, the thugs shouting behind them as they vanished into the crowd.
“I can’t believe you were seriously about to go along with them.” The man sighed.
Finally, Cecilia realized the truth of what had happened. What had almost happened. Suddenly her blood was very cold.
They came to an empty alley, the thugs nowhere to be seen. The hooded man let out a relieved breath when he confirmed their escape. “I don’t think we’ve been followed.”
“Um, who are you?” After very nearly being dragged off by men moments earlier, Cecilia was understandably cautious about this supposed savior.
“What is the count thinking, letting you wander around in those clothes with no protection?”
Cecilia jumped. This man knew her father. “E-excuse me, but can you tell me your name?”
Noting the terror in her eyes and the fragility of her voice, the man shrugged and lowered his hood. Her expression changed instantly. Her hands shot up to her mouth, holding back a shout of surprise.
“I can’t rightly leave you to fend for yourself, now, can I?” He smiled in resignation.
Cecilia knew this man. Everyone knew this man. “Y-Your Highness?”
He was supposed to be at the palace, and yet here he was, the second most important man in the realm, standing before her…
It really is an event, Anna-Marie recounted nostalgically. The prince, sneaking around outside the palace, finds the heroine, sneaking around herself. They wander, pretending to be a couple to keep from being discovered. Not that anything like that is gonna happen today.
It couldn’t happen without a heroine. What kind of story would there be without a main character? Plus, the prince himself wasn’t out and about, so unfortunately, this little reverie was dead on arrival.
Prince Christopher happened to be indisposed at present on account of the dormitory system being put in place in response to the attack at the Spring Ball. There was much to be done, and many things to reschedule, so in all aspects—temporally, physically, mentally, et cetera—the prince leaving the palace in any capacity was a mathematical impossibility.
It’s all one big butterfly effect that got set in motion the moment we got our memories back. I know I’m beating a dead horse, but seeing the consequences with my own eyes really makes it sting.
Anna took a sip of her juice and exhaled. It doubled as a sigh.
She was out today for pleasure and business both. Someone had to see what would become of the event that never was. What would happen if the heroine showed up, but there was no prince to save her? Something inappropriate for the genre, undoubtedly. Cecilia Leginbarth wasn’t at Royal Academy—that much Anna could confirm—but that didn’t preclude her being somewhere else in the capital, especially with how far off the rails the plot had veered.
Luckily, this event didn’t vary. It had to happen on this particular day, so Anna-Marie could plan ahead. Ideally, Christopher should have been here, but circumstances demanded flexibility. She’d have to stand in for him. Anna-Marie was glad to. Christopher, less so.
“I bet nothing will happen. If it does, though, I’m here. If not, I can enjoy my day off.”
And then it happened. Maybe Anna-Marie was an oracle. Or maybe it was more of that main character privilege she and Christopher enjoyed so much of.
“Whoa there, Miss!”
Anna whipped toward a particularly gravely and generally unpleasant voice. It couldn’t be, could it? But sure enough, there were the men, and a girl at the center.
“Look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined my finest clothes.”
Fruit juice splattered the front of the man’s shirt when the girl bumped into him, but was that really what happened? The situation was dubious at best.
“I-I’m so sorry,” the girl stammered.
“Wouldn’t have knights and guards if ‘sorry’ was enough to cut it, but maybe your family can make this right.”
“I-I…”
The man sneered. He knew this game well.
Wow! It’s literally the game! Word for word! Anna-Marie thought. Er, not the time! Why the heck’s the event even happening?! That girl’s not even the heroine!
The heroine was supposed to have silver hair. This one’s was black!
Anna reeled back, apple juice in hand.
“Look, I’m not out to swindle anybody. I just need these clothes, see? Maybe you could come home with me. Wash this stain out.”
“Really? Will that settle this?”
Everything was unfolding exactly as ordained by the narrative. Anna prepared to play her part. Her hard, wooden cup drew a beautiful arc through the air as it flew forth on a direct path toward its cranial destiny.
“I can do that. Stream—”
“Just follow m—”
Before things could go too far off script, cup made contact with face. The girl’s strange improvisation fell on deaf, juice-covered ears.
The man clutched his nose and growled. Perhaps destiny had been working out her throwing arm.
Anna dashed in while the men were dazed. “Don’t gawk! Run!”
An awfully similar line to Christopher’s, but she hadn’t exactly prepped for this. Anna yanked the girl’s arm and forced her to run, and she did, looking utterly baffled the whole way.
When they managed to lose their pursuers in a crowd, Anna found herself muttering, “I can’t believe you were seriously about to humor them. Where’s your common sense?”
“Er, humor what? Common sense?”
The girl simply could not comprehend what was happening or why they were running. No way this was the heroine. She couldn’t even grasp the reality of the situation. That put Anna oddly at ease. It was uncanny how closely things had followed the script in her head, but this was an actual human response—just not the heroine’s.
“For crying out loud, where is she?!” a man shouted.
Anna snapped out of her thoughts and pulled them off the main street.
“I think,” she panted, “we lost them.”
They’d slipped out of the crowd and down a quiet alleyway far down the street. Anna was back on script, but the words were apt.
“Um, who are you?”
Anna wiped her brow while a confused—but really quite cute—voice behind her questioned her. Another line straight out of the game. She scoffed. This girl wasn’t even the heroine. Whatever force was at work here, it was a stickler for the weirdest details.