Silence in the face of evil is itself evil... Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer
———
The first rays of dawn crept across my windowsill like hesitant fingers, painting the stone walls in shades of amber and rose. I leaned my full weight against the door, feeling the wood groan in sympathy. The [Rune of Diminishment] sat heavy in my pocket, its warmth seeping through the fabric like a promise of salvation.
I did it. I actually did it.
I'd broken into the archive wing, evaded guards, squeezed through a window that should have been impossible to navigate, and emerged with the one artifact that could save my miserable existence. The forum post had been real. PlotHoleFinder69's throwaway comment about an overlooked plot device had just become my lifeline.
I stumbled toward my bed, legs shaking from the adrenaline crash. The soft mattress beckoned like paradise after the night's ordeal. My hands trembled as I pulled the rune from my pocket, examining it one more time in the growing light.
A rune that conceals the bearer's true capabilities from the System's omniscient eye. Perfect for someone who needs to hide their real nature.
I wrapped the rune in a spare handkerchief and tucked it into the false bottom of my jewelry box, beneath a tangle of worthless copper rings and tarnished chains. The hiding place felt secure enough for now.
My body hit the mattress, and I let out a groan that came from somewhere deep in my bones. The silk sheets felt like clouds after the rough stone and splintered wood of the archive wing. I closed my eyes, ready to surrender to the exhaustion that had been building for hours.
My body craved oblivion, but my mind refused to power down.
What am I forgetting?
I rolled onto my side, staring at the wall where dawn's light painted shifting patterns through the window glass. The novel had been over a thousand chapters long, packed with subplot after subplot. The main storyline followed Leo's rise to power, but dozens of smaller stories wove through the narrative like threads in a tapestry.
Minor characters. Side plots. Tragic endings that served as emotional beats between the larger action sequences.
That's why her name was so damn familiar…
Lyra.
Lyra Ashford. She'd appeared in maybe six scenes total, background decoration.
Until she became the center of a tragedy that had made half the forum cry.
Oh no. Oh no no no.
I scrambled out of bed, rushing to my desk where I kept the calendar. My fingers traced the dates, counting forward from the confrontation with Leo. Which meant today was...
The fifteenth of Harvest Month.
The day Lyra would be framed for theft. The day Lord Blackwood's missing heirloom would be discovered in her quarters, planted there by his corrupt steward who needed a scapegoat for his own embezzlement.
The day she'd be executed.
My hands shook as I gripped the edge of the desk. I remembered this subplot. Of course I did. It was a classic "fridged side character" trope.
Lyra Ashford wasn't a person in the original story; she was a sacrificial lamb whose brutal, unjust death existed for the sole purpose of giving the golden-boy protagonist a moment of tragic introspection.
She's going to die today. Unless...
The thought trailed off. What could I do? I was Kaelen Leone, second son of a declining house, known coward and general embarrassment to my family name.
I had no political power, no allies, no resources beyond what I'd just stolen from my own family's archives.
But I had knowledge. I knew what was going to happen, when it would happen, and who was really responsible.
The steward. Marcus Grundy. He's been skimming from Lord Blackwood's accounts for months, and today he's going to pin the theft of Lady Blackwood's emerald necklace on a innocent girl to cover his tracks.
The theft would be discovered this morning when Lady Blackwood noticed the missing necklace. Grundy would suggest searching the servants' quarters, starting with the newest and most vulnerable. The necklace would be found under Lyra's mattress, placed there sometime during the night shift change.
The same shift change I used to break into the archives. While I was playing treasure hunter, an innocent girl was being set up to die.
I'd been so focused on saving myself that I'd forgotten about the other victims of this cruel narrative. Lyra was just the first. Over the course of the novel, dozens of minor characters would suffer and die to service the main plot. Servants, merchants, soldiers, students—all of them ground up in the gears of Leo's heroic journey.
You saved yourself, Extra. But are you going to do anything about it?
A knock at my door made me jump. I quickly smoothed my hair and threw on a dressing robe, trying to look like I'd been asleep instead of plotting impossible rescues.
"Young Master Kaelen?" Lyra's voice carried its usual note of gentle concern. "Your father requests your presence in the main hall. There's been... an incident."
It's starting.
I opened the door to find Lyra's face creased with worry. Her red eyes darted nervously down the hallway, as if expecting eavesdroppers to materialize from the shadows.
"What kind of incident?"
"A theft, sir. At the Blackwood estate. They're requesting permission to search our servants' quarters as part of their investigation."
"A theft? But why would they want to search our people?"
"I don't know, sir. But Lord Blackwood seemed quite insistent. Your father is... not pleased."
I bet he isn't. Having the Blackwoods nose around our estate is the last thing Father needs right now, especially with the family's financial situation already under scrutiny.
"I'll be down shortly. Thank you, Lyra."
She bobbed a curtsy and hurried away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Lord Blackwood would arrive within the hour, accompanied by his steward and a small contingent of guards. They'd make a show of searching the noble quarters first, finding nothing, before moving on to the servants' wing. Grundy would "suggest" checking the servants' rooms, starting with the kitchen staff.
Lyra would be found with the necklace. She'd protest her innocence, of course, but who would believe a lowly maid over a noble's steward? She'd be arrested, tried before a hastily convened tribunal, and sentenced to death before sunset. Justice, noble style.
Unless someone intervened.
I dressed quickly, choosing clothes that made me look even more unremarkable than usual. A simple brown tunic, dark trousers, scuffed boots that had seen better days.
The [Rune of Diminishment] called to me from its hiding place, but I left it where it was. I couldn't risk using an unknown magical artifact when I didn't understand its full effects. Better to rely on more mundane tools.
Like social camouflage and the power of being consistently underestimated.
I made my way downstairs, taking the servants' passages instead of the main corridors. The back routes were busier than usual, filled with worried staff members whispering about the impending search.
Father stood near the massive fireplace, his posture rigid as he spoke in low tones with Lucius. Lady Vivienne perched on a velvet chair like a beautiful bird of prey, her emerald dress chosen to complement her sharp features. They all looked up when I entered, and I made sure to stumble slightly on the threshold.
"Ah, Kaelen." Father's voice carried its usual note of disappointed resignation. "Come. We have a situation that requires the family's united front."
I shuffled forward, keeping my eyes downcast and my shoulders hunched. "Lyra mentioned a theft?"
"Lord Blackwood's emerald necklace has gone missing," Lucius explained. "A family heirloom. He believes one of our servants might have taken it during the harvest festival."
Believes. What a convenient word for 'has been told by his corrupt steward.'
"But that's... that's horrible," I stammered, playing up the shock. "Surely none of our people would do such a thing?"
A delicate, musical laugh escaped Lady Vivienne's lips. "Oh, Kaelen, you're so wonderfully naive," she said, her voice dripping with mock affection.
"You still believe in fairy tales where the poor are always virtuous. It's almost charming. But in the real world, darling, desperation is a far more powerful motivator than honor."
And corruption makes murderers of even the most trusted servants.
The sound of horses' hooves on cobblestones announced Lord Blackwood's arrival. Through the tall windows, I could see a small procession approaching—a richly appointed carriage flanked by mounted guards, their armor gleaming in the morning sun.
Showtime.
Father straightened his shoulders, assuming the bearing of a lord receiving an equal. "Remember," he said quietly, "we are cooperating fully with this investigation. We have nothing to hide."
The great doors swung open to admit Lord Marcel Blackwood. He was perhaps fifty years old, with silver-streaked hair and the kind of sharp intelligence that missed nothing. Behind him walked his steward, Nicholas Grundy—a thin man with nervous eyes and hands that never stopped moving.
"Aldric, I appreciate your willingness to assist in this matter."
"Of course, Marcel. Anything to help recover your family's treasure. Though I must say, I'm surprised you suspect one of our people. They've all been with us for years."
Grundy stepped forward. "My lord, in my experience, it's often the newest servants who pose the greatest risk. They haven't yet developed proper loyalty to their employers."
There it is. The setup, delivered right on schedule.
Blackwood nodded gravely. "Grundy makes a valid point. Perhaps we should begin our search with your most recent hires?"
And there's the trap, closing around Lyra's neck.
I watched the conversation unfold like a stage play. In an hour, they'd find the necklace. In six hours, Lyra would be dead. The wheels of injustice would turn with the inexorable force of a grinding mill, crushing an innocent girl to preserve the reputation of a guilty man.
I cleared my throat hesitantly, drawing surprised looks from everyone in the room. "Um... if I may suggest something?"
Father's expression could have frozen water. "Kaelen, this is not the time for—"
"No, please," I interrupted, letting my voice crack slightly. "I just... I know some of the servants. The newer ones, I mean. Maybe I could help with the search? I might notice if something seems... wrong?"