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Under the moonlight.
Sylphiette stood on the steps, locking eyes with Allen and Isolte below.
Allen stared blankly at Sylphiette for a moment, his expression shifting from surprise to confusion, then from confusion to shock, and finally from shock to horror.
At last, his eyes widened, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
Wait, hold on—I didn't do anything wrong! I just went out and killed some people. The plot was supposed to be serious, so how did it suddenly turn into a cheating scandal?!
But more importantly, why didn't you two put on more clothes before coming outside? Were you in that much of a hurry?
And the real problem is…
These semi-transparent black-and-white nightgowns, paired with this situation…
It looks even more like a cheating scandal now!
And most importantly—
Allen's lips parted slightly as he stared dumbfounded at Sylphiette's lower half.
At least Isolte is wearing something underneath… Sylphiette, what the hell?!
Why is your skirt wet?!
So, who's the one that's wet here—me or you?!
But the wet spot is in a weird place…
Wait—
Allen suddenly remembered that in the original story, Sylphiette had suffered from PTSD after the teleportation incident and often wet the bed in the royal capital.
But in this timeline, while there was a fall from a height, wasn't that part of the romantic setup? She landed safely, and the moonlight that night was too beautiful—
No, now's not the time to think about that.
What the hell is going on here?!
His mind, still tense from the earlier killings, had been fully focused on serious matters. But this overly dramatic scene in front of him reignited his long-dormant urge to吐槽 (complain) about this world.
Though stunned, his survival instincts kicked in, and he immediately opened his mouth to defend himself.
But before he could speak, Sylphiette spoke first.
While Allen had been frozen in shock, she had already noticed the torn fabric on his chest and the way his clothes were soaked. In an instant, she connected it to certain traumatic memories—the PTSD from that rainy night.
Just like now, he had been heading toward an uncertain situation, drenched and battered.
Her lips trembled as she began explaining first.
"I… I noticed Isolte wasn't in her room, so I came out to check…"
"The innkeeper… he's dead. Healing magic couldn't save him. Does this have something to do with you being soaked? Could it be…"
"Allen, did you kill him… and then go kill more people?"
Allen froze. This moment of wordless understanding instantly pulled all his scattered thoughts into focus.
Of course. This is my girl. She doesn't even need an explanation to immediately realize this isn't some love triangle mess.
He let out a long sigh.
"Haaah…"
"Haaah…"
The synchronized exhales came from both Allen and Isolte.
They both blinked, turning to look at each other, their expressions awkward once more.
The misunderstanding had been cleared up.
But the feeling of being "caught in the act" only grew stronger.
Still, why is everyone waking up one after another tonight?
He looked up at Sylphiette.
At the very least, the issue of disposing of the bodies had been resolved.
A swordsman only needed to kill. But a magician had to consider many things.
Like how to release a dazzling firework at just the right moment to cheer on the swordsman.
Like how to cast healing magic in time after the swordsman finished killing.
And also—
How to quietly and efficiently dispose of a pile of mutilated corpses using various spells.
Allen was familiar with this—his first wife had done it for him before.
Roxy's technique had been excellent. He'd been very satisfied.
Mhm.
So…
"Sylphiette, here's what happened—"
"Th-this should work, right?!"
"No, a little more to the left."
"Huh? Like this? Is this okay?"
"..."
"Um… A-A-A-Allen, are you… watching me?"
"Yeah, it's lined up."
"Th-then I'll bury it now!"
"Alright. Please dig deep."
"O-okay! Y-you can let go now!"
"Right."
Sylphiette scrambled out of Allen's arms, darting forward about ten centimeters before realizing she'd gone too far and shuffling back slightly.
Her white nightgown fluttered in the night breeze.
The hand that had been holding her earlier was now gone.
But she still kept her eyes tightly shut, her ears twitching nervously.
Allen's body heat is too obvious!
Sylphiette hunched her shoulders slightly, peeking down at her skirt before instinctively squeezing her legs together.
A cheating scandal?
Honestly, at first, it had kinda felt like that.
Because the dream had been so weird! So weird! SO WEIRD!
How could there be such a ridiculous dream?!
Allen prying my legs apart—okay, fine, that wasn't entirely unexpected. Lady Ariel had taught me about that…
BUT!!!
WHY WAS ISOLTE S-S-S-S-SITTING ON MY FACE?!
WHY WOULD I DREAM SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!
She hadn't been able to move at all! Her hands had been pinned down by Isolte, leaving her completely helpless!
So when Sylphiette woke up, her first instinct had been to look for Isolte.
And when she wasn't in her room, Sylphiette panicked.
She rushed outside, only realizing something was wrong after noticing the strange atmosphere…
As she lost herself in thought, she felt Allen's body against her back again.
Cold, yet warm.
The cold came from the water soaking his clothes. The warmth came from his body heat seeping through the contact.
Just like in the dream…
Without thinking, Sylphiette blinked.
Her eyes finally opened.
The resting place she had created with her own hands came into view.
A grave, standing in the middle of the stables.
—Built using a combination of earth and wind magic.
In an instant, Sylphiette's face paled. Under the moonlight, the occasional gray fingers poking out from the dirt were clearly visible.
She had seen corpses before—on that rainy night of the ambush. But this was completely different.
Back then, the bodies had been scattered everywhere, and while it had made her uncomfortable, they had all been "bad people" who deserved to die.
But now?
This grave held the entire town's population. Every single villager, regardless of age, was buried here.
Allen had already explained why.
But Sylphiette still felt a chill in her heart.
Thinking this, she leaned back slightly, pressing gently against Allen.
The chaotic thoughts in her mind were scattered by the gruesome sight before her.
Sylphiette leaned against Allen, seeking warmth.
Allen stared expressionlessly at the grave. Isolte, meanwhile, had shifted her posture, tucking her sheathed sword between her arms and standing with her head slightly lowered, her gaze fixed on Allen and Sylphiette's nearly overlapping feet.
The three of them were lost in their own thoughts.
Allen spoke up, finally addressing the issue he had glossed over earlier with the word "bath."
"Do either of you have any thoughts on how to change this situation?"
Sylphiette and Isolte both froze, turning to look at him.
Allen narrowed his eyes, his gaze glinting under the moonlight.
"The villagers were undoubtedly victims—weak and helpless. But is the solution as simple as killing a few so-called 'evil strong people'?"
"And do the three of us standing here even have the right position to change anything? I'm a noble. Isolte is a noble. Sylphiette might seem closest to the villagers in status, but her current circumstances are nothing like theirs."
"Besides, she'll inevitably become a noble too."
At these words, Sylphiette blinked, her cheeks reddening slightly—but she didn't pull away from Allen. Isolte, meanwhile, kept her eyes fixed on her own feet.
"We were never on the same level as the villagers to begin with."
Allen's voice continued, rough in logic but brutally direct.
"James had 'power.' For his own desires and ambitions, he hired bandits to start this massacre."
"The bandits had 'power.' For money and women, they set up an ambush, waiting for me to walk into their trap."
"The villagers had no 'power.' Just by being caught in the crossfire of these 'strong' people's desires, they were wiped out in a matter of hours, with no chance to resist."
"Does being weak mean you deserve to die? Is that fair?"
Isolte and Sylphiette swallowed hard. Allen, meanwhile, stared at the grave, remembering the guard he had cut down without hesitation.
"The villagers were weak. Their fate was tragic."
"But what about the bandits who raised their blades? Were there none among them who were also weak? Were there none who had been forced into this life by circumstance? Were there none who had only joined the bandits because of some past misfortune?"
"How many of these corpses had their own tragedies? How many truly deserved to die?"
"Can you figure it out? Can you change it?"
"I can't. And honestly, I don't have the energy to think about it, nor the interest in listening to each of their sob stories."
"So—"
Allen flicked a finger to the side. Isolte and Sylphiette followed his gesture.
There was another grave there—where all the "sinners" had been buried.
"I just cut them down."
Not letting them rot and stink up the place was the last mercy Allen gave them.
"I know full well that changing things at the root isn't something you can accomplish with a passing thought or a sudden idea."
"It requires civilization to endure—to change and develop over a long, long time, gradually approaching these ideals born from basic human morality."
"But before that—"
"The first requirement is to let civilization endure. To give time the soil it needs to stretch into the future."
"This world doesn't even have the foundation for civilization to sustain itself. The current peace is just an illusion. Some 'people' can reshape the world with a single thought. Some 'people' can cause massive upheaval just by acting on their whims."
"So how can you talk about 'giving civilization to the years'? How can you change what happened here today?"
"It shouldn't be like this. The strong should set their boundaries at the freedom of the weak. I know it sounds pretentious, but in this world, it's the truth."
"Some of the 'people' at the very top can't control their desires. They don't live up to what their station demands. They don't give this world the 'direction' it needs."
"So I'll just have to make them do it."
"This is the first step I, Allen Boreas Greyrat, am taking to change the world—out of selfishness, but also out of a sense of duty."
"As for what comes after—"
"Whether I leave the world to time or step in to rearrange things myself—"
"That'll be up to my will. I won't have to rely on anyone else's whims."
"And when that time comes—"
"Everything will be simple."
Silence fell.
Sylphiette and Isolte both stared at him, stunned.
The former didn't quite understand what Allen was saying. The latter connected his words to the royal succession struggle in the capital.
"Let's go."
The three of them left the stables. With the inn and the corpses cleared away, the stench of blood in the air had faded significantly.
4:40 AM.
There wasn't much time left for them to sleep.
But none of them felt particularly eager to return to bed just yet.
Lost in their own thoughts, they walked slowly under the moonlight.
Sylphiette blinked, still trying to process Allen's words. Isolte, meanwhile, kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
"Sorry, Senior Brother… I might have added to your burdens again."
Allen, who had been lost in thought, raised an eyebrow at that.
Sylphiette, meanwhile, peeked around Allen's figure to look at Isolte—only to glance back at Allen when she noticed how sheer Isolte's nightgown was.
Allen didn't turn to look at Isolte.
"Hm? What do you mean?"
Isolte pressed her lips together. "This new direction of yours… You always think so far ahead. I just… I think if you really want change, the best candidate isn't one of the princes. Princess Ariel would be more suitable. I've heard she truly cares for the people."
As a noble from the capital, she was naturally sensitive to Allen's family background—and thus worried about his political leanings.
Allen froze.
Memories of Ariel's… unique preferences from the original story flashed through his mind, and his expression twisted awkwardly for a second.
He had just been venting his frustrations as a reincarnator, influenced by Isolte's earlier words. He hadn't expected her to take it so seriously.
Noticing his expression, Isolte tilted her head.
"Senior Brother, you don't think highly of Princess Ariel either? But… given that you can't work with James now, siding with Princess Ariel might be the better choice. It aligns with your vision for the future. I never expected you to be so suited for the Millis faith."
Allen's mouth opened slightly.
Both his past-life soul and his current self were grateful to Isolte. She genuinely cared about him.
But.
It seemed that no matter the world, followers of any religion would eventually circle back to proselytizing.
How typical.
Hadn't Isolte tried to convert him when they were kids, too?
He glanced at Sylphiette, who was now staring wide-eyed at Isolte.
Yeah… Good thing I didn't join. That would've been a disaster.
Still, this trip to the capital would inevitably involve Ariel. She was part of a certain possibility…
Just then, Sylphiette stepped around him, looking at Isolte with curiosity.
"Princess Ariel?"
Her expression was full of curiosity, her reddish-brown eyes glimmering under the moonlight.
—Maybe because the name sounded undeniably feminine, or maybe because it was tied to Allen's choices.
Allen looked down at the small head poking out in front of him like a curious animal. For a moment, he felt strangely dazed.
Even in this timeline, where so much had changed… would Sylphiette still end up entangled with Ariel?
What a strange twist of fate.
Seeing Sylphiette's expression, Isolte's eyes flashed with something darkly amused as she leaned in closer to Allen, addressing Sylphiette.
"Yes, Princess Ariel. She's the second princess of the Asura Kingdom, only eleven years old this year. Not only is she incredibly popular among the commoners, but her figure is also quite developed for her age."
Allen stared at Isolte in disbelief.
Wait, hold on—since when did we switch from politics to body proportions?!
"Eleven… only a year younger than Allen? And her figure is already… good at that age?"
Allen blinked at Sylphiette.
Why is that the part you focus on?!
"Yes. And her voice is lovely too. People say it's like a songbird's—one of the most soothing in all of Asura. She's also a potential candidate for the next ruler."
Allen: …Soothing? Yeah, right.
"Th-that's amazing…"
Allen: …Amazing, sure. Also 'amazing' at ambushing you in bed.
"Indeed. Unlike the princes, who spend all their time socializing with nobles, she's always active in public events. Almost everyone in the capital knows of her beauty."
Allen: …Which is also why her escape from the capital got leaked. She's too recognizable.
"I-is that so… Then, does Allen know her well?"
Allen: …Huh?! Wait, Sylphiette, don't jump to conclusions! In the last timeline, I only knew her from the books! In this one, I've never even met that pervert!
"Yes."
…WHAT?!
"Huh?!"
Allen gaped at Isolte, this time too stunned to remember to avoid looking at the "scenery" beneath her nightgown.
Under the moonlight, Isolte tilted her head slightly, the shadowed curves of her chest swaying as she smiled faintly.
"Senior Brother, have you forgotten?"
"At the Water God Style main dojo, when you were seven—that unprecedented promotion to chief disciple in a single day… At the celebration banquet James threw for your achievement—"
"She was standing right next to me."
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