The Royal Ballroom smelled like expensive perfume and desperate political ambition.
I stood at the top of the marble staircase, looking down at the sea of nobles. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, but according to the System, my external appearance was:
[Status Effect: AURA OF DOMINANCE (Active)]
Charisma: -500 (Terror) Presence: MAX
The moment the herald announced, "Duke Ashen Noctis, Lord of the Northern Void," the music didn't just stop. It died.
Three hundred heads snapped toward me. The conversation ceased instantly.
I gripped the velvet railing. Just walk down, I told myself. Don't trip. If you trip, you'll probably accidentally cast an earthquake spell and kill everyone.
I took a step.
Click.
My boot hit the marble. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the silent hall.
Down below, the crowd parted. They didn't just move aside; they scrambled, tripping over their ballgowns to create a ten-meter radius of empty space around me. It was like I was Moses, and they were the Red Sea, if the Red Sea was made of terrified aristocrats terrified of being turned into frogs.
[Reputation Check Passed: "The Walking Calamity"]
I reached the bottom floor and scanned the room, ignoring the trembling minor nobles. I was looking for one thing: The Buffet.
If I could just stand near the shrimp cocktail and not talk to anyone for three hours, I might survive this event.
Target acquired. A tower of lemon tarts in the corner.
I took a step toward the pastry salvation.
[SYSTEM ALERT: MANDATORY EVENT TRIGGERED][Event: The Villain's Obsession][Objective: Confront Saintess Elara.]
My body froze.
I tried to step toward the food, but my legs wouldn't obey. A cold, electric sensation seized my muscles. It wasn't magic; it was the Script. The narrative force of the game was physically hijacking my nervous system.
No, I thought, panic rising. Not now. I'm not ready.
My body turned on its own, pivoting smoothly away from the tarts. My legs began to move with a predatory grace I certainly didn't possess.
I was marching straight toward the center of the ballroom.
And there they were. The Main Cast.
Standing under the crystal chandelier was a group that looked like they had walked out of a boy band photoshoot.
There was the Crown Prince, blonde and sparkling, laughing a little too loudly. There was the Knight Commander, brooding and scarred, leaning against a pillar. And in the center of them all... Her.
Saintess Elara.
She was radiant. Golden hair that defied physics, blue eyes that held the "purity of the heavens," and a white dress that probably cost more than my entire dukedom. She was laughing at something the Prince said, the picture-perfect Otome Heroine.
[Death Flag Probability: RISING to 99.99%]
My body didn't stop. I stalked toward them. The crowd gasped. The Prince stopped laughing and put a hand on his sword hilt.
Stop, I screamed internally. I don't want to do this!
But my mouth opened against my will. The [Voice of the Abyss] passive skill activated, amplifying my voice so it rolled across the room like thunder.
"ENJOYING YOURSELF, SAINTESS?"
Elara froze. The Prince stepped in front of her, his face righteous and annoying.
"Duke Noctis," the Prince spat. "You dare darken this celebration with your presence? Begone, or—"
My arm moved. I didn't mean to, but my hand swatted the air as if dismissing a fly.
[Passive Skill: OVERWHELMING PRESSURE]
The Prince stumbled back, choking on the sudden density of my mana. The Knight Commander drew his sword, but his hand was shaking.
I ignored them. The Script didn't care about the harem members. It only wanted the Saintess.
I stepped past the struggling Prince and loomed over Elara. She looked small compared to me. I was six-foot-three of dark armor and brooding malice; she was five-foot-nothing of holy light.
This was the scene. The infamous "Corruption Declaration."
In the original game, this is where Ashen grabs her chin and whispers that he'll destroy everything she loves. It's the moment the players scream and screenshot because the CG art is incredible, even if the guy is a psycho.
My hand reached out.
I'm sorry, I thought frantically. I'm so sorry, I don't want to touch you, please don't purify me.
My gloved fingers caught her chin. I tilted her face up.
The entire ballroom held its breath. The silence was absolute.
I looked into her eyes, expecting to see fear. Disgust. The burning light of judgment that would vaporize my HP bar.
But... I saw something else.
Up close, the "perfect" Saintess didn't look perfect. She had bags under her eyes concealed by heavy makeup. Her smile was strained, trembling at the corners.
And her eyes... they were dead.
They weren't the eyes of a holy maiden chosen by the gods. They were the eyes of a college student during finals week who had been running on caffeine and hatred for three days straight.
She didn't pull away. She didn't scream for the guards.
Instead, she leaned into my hand. She went off-script.
She stood on her tiptoes, bringing her lips close to my ear. To the onlookers, it looked like a defiant, intimate challenge.
I braced myself for the death sentence. Here it comes. "Die, monster."
Her warm breath hit my ear.
"Dude," she whispered, her voice cracking with exhaustion. "Please tell me you skipped the cutscene too. I've been stuck in this corset for four hours and I can't feel my legs."
My brain short-circuited.
...What?
I froze. The Script loosened its grip on my tongue, confused by the deviation.
I looked down at her, wide-eyed. The "Evil Emperor" mask slipped for a fraction of a second.
"Did..." I whispered back, my voice barely audible over the thumping of my heart. "Did you just say cutscene?"
Elara's dead eyes suddenly sparked with life. Real, genuine life.
"Oh thank God," she hissed, keeping her face close to mine to hide her mouth from the crowd. "You're a Player. I thought I was alone with these NPCs. The Prince keeps talking about the 'Power of Friendship' and I'm this close to strangling him with my rosary."
[SYSTEM ERROR.][NARRATIVE DEVIATION DETECTED.][RECALCULATING...]
I stared at her. This wasn't the Saintess Elara who purifies evil with a touch.
This was a fellow gamer. A victim.
"Who were you?" I whispered urgently. "Before?"
She maintained the intense eye contact, which the crowd was definitely interpreting as some kind of high-stakes magical duel or a twisted romance.
"I was a raid leader for World of Warcraft," she muttered. "I died chugging an energy drink during a server first attempt. Now I'm trapped in a dating sim where the mechanics are trash."
She dug her nails into my arm—painfully.
"Listen, 'Duke'," she whispered. "I can see your UI reflection in your eyes. You have a Death Flag blinking over your head."
"I know!" I hissed. "It says you decapitate me!"
"I don't want to decapitate you!" she whisper-shouted. "I hate blood! I fainted when I got a paper cut last week! If the script forces me to kill you, I'm going to throw up on the throne."
[Relationship Update][Saintess Elara: ENEMY -> ACCOMPLICE][Affection: 0 -> 50 (Shared Trauma)]
The Prince recovered his breath behind us. "Get your filthy hands off her, Noctis!"
Elara flinched. "Crap. The harem is rebooting. We need to talk. Somewhere without these anime protagonists breathing down our necks."
I thought fast. I needed to maintain my villain persona while arranging a secret meeting.
I shoved her away—gently, but with enough theatrical flair that she stumbled back dramatically. The crowd gasped again.
"Hmph!" I scoffed, channeling my inner theater kid. "Your 'light' is dim, Saintess. You are not worth destroying... yet."
It was a cringy line. It was terrible.
But Elara caught the cue perfectly. She clutched her chest, looking "stricken."
"How vile!" she cried out, her voice trembling (with suppressed laughter?). "You will not intimidate me, Duke! I shall... I shall reflect on your threats in the Royal Gardens! Alone! In ten minutes!"
She practically screamed the location and time.
"Do as you wish," I sneered, turning my cape with a flourish that would have made Batman jealous. "I shall be there to... mock you further."
I turned and walked away, headed for the balcony exit.
As I walked, I risked a glance at the System.
[Fate Calculator Updated]
Death Probability:99.9% -> 94.0%New Route Unlocked: [The Glitch Alliance]
I suppressed a grin.
The game wanted a tragedy. The Script wanted a bloodbath.
But the Saintess just invited the Final Boss to a strategy meeting behind the bushes.
Game on.