For a long while after Karl left, I just lay there staring at the ceiling, my heart thudding way too fast for someone who had just "almost died" and was supposed to be resting.
My fingers still tingled with the memory of his mane under my hand.
STATUS CHECK
Body Stability: 55%
HUSBAND AFFECTION:
– Karl Velenhart: 12/100 (Trust: 9 | Suspicion: 15)
– Joe Varyn: 3/100 (Trust: 6 | Suspicion: 8)
– Riven Clawtail: 5/100 (Trust: 4 | Suspicion: 2)
In one morning I'd:
– Survived the stairs,
– Been carried like a princess,
– Touched a lion general's mane,
– And unlocked an affection interface for my own harem.
If my old self had seen this, he would've thrown the phone at the wall and screamed "author bias."
SYSTEM:
Correction: You are the author of your own bias now.
"Shut up," I muttered.
A soft knock sounded.
"Come in," I called.
The door opened quietly.
Nina slipped inside, closing it gently behind her. Her eyes immediately swept the room—bed, table, my posture—like she was checking for broken objects or unconscious bodies.
"Lady Rose," she said, bowing. "Lord Karl asked me to make sure you were comfortable." She hesitated. "He also said… you are not allowed to leave this room alone until further notice."
"Of course he did," I sighed. "Apparently, I'm a flight risk. Or a fall risk."
Nina twisted her fingers in her apron. "He carried you through the corridors," she murmured, cheeks turning faintly pink. "Everyone saw."
I groaned and covered my face with one hand.
"Great. How long until rumors say I fainted from his overwhelming masculinity?"
Nina's ears turned a bit redder. "The staff… already seem to think it's romantic, my lady."
I peeked through my fingers.
"Romantic?"
She nodded cautiously. "Many say they have never seen Lord Karl… so openly protective before."
My face warmed despite myself.
Openly protective, huh.
My gaze drifted to the side table, where the long, slim box still sat, wrapped in dark cloth.
Karl's "welcome home" gift.
"Right," I said, sitting up. "Nina, could you… bring that box over here?"
She followed my gaze and stiffened.
"The… weapon, my lady?" she asked, voice a touch too high.
"Yes," I said. "Carefully. Don't drop it. Knowing my luck, it probably curses whoever touches it without permission."
Her face went from pink to white.
"I—I will be careful," she said quickly.
She lifted the box with both hands and brought it to the bed, placing it gently across my lap, as if it were a sleeping dragon.
Up close, I could see faint engravings on the cloth—swirling lines like vines and fox tails.
DING!
NEW SIDE QUEST: "Claim the Lion's Gift"
Objective: Open Karl's gift and decide how you will wield it.
Reward:
– +5 Body Stability
– Unlock: Weapon Status
Risk:
– Emotional backlash from inherited memories.
"Inherited memories," I muttered. "That sounds ominous."
SYSTEM:
You are wearing someone else's life.
Of course some things are bound to her, not you.
My fingers dug into the cloth.
"Nina," I said. "You can go for now. I'll rest after this."
She hesitated. "Are you sure, my lady? Perhaps I should call the healer first, or—"
"I'll be fine," I said more gently. "If I need anything, I'll ring."
"…Yes, my lady."
She bowed and retreated, closing the door quietly behind her.
Silence settled again.
I took a deep breath and pulled the cloth away.
The box beneath was made of dark, polished wood, cool to the touch. Fine carvings traced the lid—foxes with flowing tails intertwined with lion heads, eyes set with tiny crimson stones.
The Pink Fox and the Lion.
"Subtle," I told the absent Karl.
I slid the lid open.
Inside, on a velvet lining, lay a weapon.
Not a big one. Not a sword or a spear.
A dagger.
Its sheath was black, edged with rose-gold metal worked into curling, petal-like patterns. The handle peeked from the top: wrapped in dark leather, ending in a fox's head carved from pale pink stone. Tiny gems winked where its eyes would be.
It was beautiful.
Deadly.
Mine.
I reached out—and hesitated, fingers hovering over the handle.
SYSTEM:
Warning: This artifact is soul-bound to "Rose Vixelle."
Touching it may trigger memory assimilation of previous usage.
Continue?
I swallowed.
If I didn't touch it, I'd never know what it could do.
And the way this world was setting up, I'd need more than pretty eyes and flirting to survive.
"Continue," I thought.
My fingers closed around the handle.
The world slammed sideways.
In an instant, I wasn't in the bedroom anymore.
I was standing in a different room—a grand hall with marble floors and high windows. Warm sunlight poured in, glinting off spilled wine and shattered glass.
My hand was raised, gripping the same dagger.
But it wasn't my hand.
The nails were longer, painted a deep crimson instead of my current pale pink. Heavy rings adorned the fingers. The way they curled around the hilt was… cruel. Familiar with violence.
A beastman servant knelt in front of me on the floor, trembling. Dog ears pressed flat to his skull, tail tucked between his legs.
"P‑please, my lady," he stammered. "I—It was an accident—"
My—no, her—voice laughed, low and delighted.
"An accident?" Old Rose purred. "How many times have I heard that?"
She stepped closer. The sound of heels clicking on the marble echoed.
I could feel the smirk on her lips as she tilted the servant's chin up with the tip of the dagger.
Pink eyes glittered, reflected in his wide, terrified ones.
"You spilled wine on my dress," she said sweetly. "Do you know how expensive this fabric is?"
"My lady, I—I'll pay for it—"
"With what?" she cut in. "Your wages? Your life?"
She pressed the blade just enough to nick his skin. A thin line of blood welled up.
Somewhere to the side, a familiar figure stood, watching silently.
Karl.
Armor off, posture relaxed, but eyes cold.
He didn't move to stop her.
Behind him, another shadow leaned against a pillar, arms crossed—tall, horned, silver-eyed.
Joe.
Their expressions were flat, resigned. As if they'd seen this show a hundred times.
As if they knew: Rose would hurt the servant. Then cry later and demand comfort for her own "distress."
The memory lurched.
Another scene:
The same dagger, this time flashing in the dim light of a corridor. A hand—her hand—trailing the blade along a stone wall, humming under her breath as she walked away from a room where someone was sobbing.
Another:
The dagger pressed against Karl's throat, his back against a wall. Her body pressed to his, perfume thick in the air.
"You're mine," she whispered, blade biting just enough to draw a bead of blood. "If you dare spend another night at the barracks instead of my bed, I'll carve your name into every woman you look at."
His golden eyes were half-lidded. Not with fear.
With… something darker.
She kissed him then, hard and victorious.
The scenes overlapped, colliding—
Servants' fear. Husbands' complicated gazes. Rose's laughing cruelty, petty, sharp, insecure.
"STOP."
The bedroom snapped back into place.
I was on my knees beside the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other clenched so tightly around the dagger that my palm ached.
My breath came in short, harsh bursts.
SYSTEM:
Partial memory assimilation complete.
Note: You may experience dizziness, emotional backlash, and/or disgust.
"No kidding," I croaked.
I forced my fingers to loosen.
The dagger lay across my knees, innocent and gleaming.
I stared at it.
"…So that's what you are," I whispered. "Not just a weapon. A… history book."
SYSTEM:
Some artifacts become extensions of their wielder.
They remember.
This one remembers Rose's hands very well.
"I'm not her," I said quietly. "Not that version."
SYSTEM:
Then use it differently.
I lifted the dagger carefully.
Without the rush of memories slamming me, I could feel… something else. A faint hum under my skin. As if the weapon was resonating with my blood.
I pulled it from the sheath.
The blade itself was slim, slightly curved, a pale silvery metal with a faint pink sheen. Along the center, delicate runes were etched, barely visible unless the light hit them.
Magic.
"Status," I whispered.
WEAPON: "VIXEN'S FANG"
Type: Spellblade Dagger (Unique Artifact)
Bound Owner: Rose Vixelle (Soul Sync: 63%)
Basic Effects (Unlocked):
– +10% to Mind Control effectiveness when channeled through blade
– +10% to Body Control finesse when held
– Can cut through most low- to mid-tier magical defenses
Hidden Effects (Locked):
– Emotion Resonance
– Blood Oath
– ???
Warning: Using this weapon for cruelty reinforces Original Rose's imprint.
Using it for protection and defense strengthens new imprint (Sam/Rose).
"…So even the dagger is judging me," I muttered.
SYSTEM:
Think of it as a very sharp therapist.
I snorted weakly despite myself.
Carefully, I slid the blade back into its sheath.
"Okay," I said aloud, to the empty room, to the invisible echo of Old Rose's laughter. "Listen. I don't know how far I can rewrite your reputation. I don't even know if these men will ever really trust me."
The dagger lay, quiet and still, on my lap.
"But if I'm going to hold a weapon," I continued, "I'm not going to use it to torment scared servants and control lovers through fear. I've already lived one life as a useless coward who couldn't change anything. I'm not going to spend this one being a monster just because it's easier."
My grip tightened.
"I'll use you to protect myself. To protect the people stuck in this crazy story with me. And if anyone wants to drag me back into the old script…"
I smiled, thin and sharp.
"…well. Then I'll show them what a rewritten villainess can do."
DING!
SIDE QUEST COMPLETE: "Claim the Lion's Gift"
Reward:
– Body Stability: 55% → 60%
– Weapon Status unlocked
Additional effect:
– New Imprint Path created: "Guardian Vixen"
Future actions with Vixen's Fang will shift alignment along this path.
I laid the dagger on the bedside table within arm's reach, then flopped back onto the bed with a groan.
My head throbbed lightly from the memory flashes. My chest felt tight—not just from the corset.
Old Rose hadn't just been "bratty" or "dramatic." She'd been dangerous. To others. To herself.
No wonder everyone was so terrified and… weirdly obsessed with her.
A soft knock sounded again.
I sat up, quickly schooling my face into something neutral.
"Come in."
The door cracked open.
A familiar head of sandy hair and twitching dog ears peeked in.
"…You're not throwing anything, right?" Riven asked cautiously. "No vases, no knives, no teacups?"
I glanced at the very real dagger on my table, then back at him.
"My hands are empty," I said. "For now."
He pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside, shutting it with a soft click.
"Good," he said cheerfully. "Because the amount of betting going on in the barracks right now is insane, and I'm not losing coin because you decided to redecorate Karl's face."
"…Betting?" I repeated. "On what?"
Riven's grin widened, all teeth.
"On whether you'd kill him," he said. "Or kiss him. After that whole balcony-and-bridal-carry show."
My brain short-circuited.
"You—you're betting on that?!"
"Of course," he said. "Do you have any idea how rare it is to see the Lion Pillar panic? He stormed in here like the world was ending, came back out smelling like your perfume instead of blood, and now half the household is trying to guess if he got bitten, scratched, or—"
"Riven."
He shut his mouth, still grinning.
I pinched the bridge of my nose for what felt like the hundredth time today.
"You are exhausting," I said. "Sit down or get out. Pick one."
"Sit," he said immediately, dropping into a chair in the least respectful way possible.
His tail swished idly against the floor.
"So," he said, propping his chin in his hand. "How's being almost-dead? Fun? Dramatic?"
"10/10, would not recommend," I replied dryly.
He snorted.
His gaze drifted to the bedside table, and his ears perked.
"Oho," he said. "He gave you that."
"The dagger?" I asked. "You know it?"
"Everyone knows it," Riven said. "You call it your 'fang.' The one you wave at people when they annoy you."
"That sounds…" I thought of the memory of the servant. "…about right."
"So?" he leaned forward, eyes glinting. "What do you think? Still sharp? Still comfortable?"
I looked at the dagger, then at him.
"Comfortable?" I echoed. "It's not a pillow."
"For you it might as well be," he said. "You sleep with it under your pillow half the time."
I blinked.
"Safety," I guessed.
"Control," he corrected lightly. "When you have it, everyone remembers you can hurt them. When you don't, you get… itchy."
I didn't like that description at all.
"Well," I said. "Maybe I'm trying a new brand of itchy."
Riven blinked.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning," I said, "I might actually learn to use it. Properly. Not just for… intimidation."
His brows shot up.
"You? Train?" he said. "With a weapon longer than your nails?"
"Don't sound so shocked," I said. "I've survived group projects. I can handle combat training."
He barked out a laugh.
"You won't last ten minutes in the yard," he said, obviously delighted by the idea. "Your wrists will die. Your feet will die. Your pride will definitely die."
"Then teach me," I shot back.
He stopped laughing.
"…What?"
"You're the Captain of the Royal Guard," I said. "Isn't making people less useless part of your job description?"
Nina, who had been pretending to be invisible in the corner ever since he came in, almost dropped the towel she was folding.
"Lady Rose," she breathed. "You… want to train?"
"Is that really so shocking?" I asked.
Both of them just stared at me.
In their eyes, Rose was the type of noble who considered lifting a full teacup a workout.
Riven's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"If this is another one of your games," he said slowly, "Karl will skin me alive for letting you near live steel."
"It's not a game," I said. "I'm tired of… relying on everyone else to keep me alive. I have a System, a rare body, a very opinionated dagger, and five walking disasters for husbands. I'd like to not die the first time something goes off-script."
He frowned. "Off… what?"
"Off plan," I corrected quickly.
He leaned back, tail flicking.
For once, he looked… serious.
"…All right," he said at last. "Tomorrow. Dawn. Training grounds' south corner. I'll bring practice daggers. No live blades until I'm sure you won't slice your own foot off."
Nina squeaked.
"Tomorrow? But Lord Karl said—"
"Lord Karl said she shouldn't be alone," Riven cut in. "I'll be there. We'll go slow. If she so much as stumbles, I'll carry her back myself. You can tell him that."
Nina looked like she'd swallowed a lemon.
I could already imagine Karl's expression if he found out his "delicate, unstable" wife was rolling on the dirt with the royal mutt at sunrise.
…Actually, I didn't hate that mental image at all.
"Done," I said. "Tomorrow at dawn."
Riven grinned, sharp and eager.
"This is going to be fun," he said. "I've always wondered if the Pink Fox could actually fight, or if you were all bark and no bite."
I reached over and tapped the fox‑headed pommel of my dagger.
"Let's find out," I said.
DING!
NEW QUEST: "Sharpen the Pink Fox's Fangs"
Objective: Complete one full basic combat training session with Riven.
Conditions:
– No collapsing
– No rage‑quitting
– No stabbing the instructor (even if deserved)
Reward:
– +7 Body Stability
– Vixen's Fang: Basic Combat Compatibility +1
– Riven's Affection +3
As Riven stood to leave, he paused at the door.
"Oh, and Rose?" he added, glancing back with a wicked glint in his eyes. "If you really want to give the barracks something to scream about…"
I narrowed my eyes. "What now?"
"Next time Karl carries you through the house," he said, "wrap your arms around his neck instead of holding onto his armor like you're riding a rented horse."
My face went hot.
"OUT," I snapped.
He laughed all the way down the hall.
The door shut behind him, leaving me alone with Nina's stunned expression and the silent weight of Vixen's Fang at my side.
Nina cleared her throat delicately.
"Lady Rose," she said, voice a little wobbly. "Do you… really intend to train tomorrow?"
"Yes," I said.
She studied my face, then bowed her head.
"Then I will prepare clothes suitable for exercise," she said. "And… perhaps some ointment. For bruises."
I winced.
"Thank you," I said.
When she left, I sank back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling once more.
Lion general. Drake assassin. Dog captain. Mysterious human enemies. A dagger full of bad memories. A reputation that could kill me.
And tomorrow, at dawn, I was going to roll around in the dirt in front of one of my husbands and try not to die of shame or exhaustion.
My old life had been small and grey and lonely.
This one was terrifying and ridiculous and way too bright—
—but for the first time, I felt the faint thrill of something else.
Possibility.
"Okay," I whispered into the quiet room. "Second life. Second chance. Let's not waste it."
Outside, the Beast Kingdom's sky slowly shifted toward evening.
Dawn—and my first step as a fighting villainess—would come soon enough.