The Crossroads

The meal had come to an end. Both bowls were completely empty, not a single breadcrumb left behind. Victoria scraped the final spoonful clean and let out a deep, satisfied sigh. I rose from my seat to clear the dishes.

“…I shall take care of the cleanup, Your Highness. To burden you in such a humble place is unforgivable──”

“This one shall assist as well.”

“…Pardon?”

Before I could finish speaking, Victoria had already rolled up her sleeves and stood. For a moment, I doubted my own ears.

“…That will not be necessary, Your Highness. How could someone of your stature perform such menial tasks? I will handle it, so please remain seated──”

“It is fine. Two pairs of hands will finish it faster.”

She brushed off my protests with ease and began gathering the empty bowls with quick, decisive movements. Then, with rather clumsy hands, she started wiping the table.

…I could only stare at the scene in blank astonishment. The imperial princess… the woman destined to conquer the continent as empress, was holding a dishcloth and wiping a mere imperial guard’s table.

Her movements were terribly unskilled. The wiping was awkward, and the moisture wasn’t even being properly removed. She was clearly someone who had never dirtied her hands with a single drop of water in her life. Yet there she was, wiping the table again and again with an expression of utmost seriousness.

Watching her, a single question flashed through my mind before I could stop it.

…Is this really Victoria von Roseria?

The Victoria I knew—no, the one I had read about in the novel—was not this kind of person. She was a woman who regarded human lives as no more valuable than those of flies, who burned everything around her to ash and stained the throne with blood. I had never once imagined her holding a dishcloth and wiping down a table.

…If it had been the Victoria from my previous life, she would have had anyone who dared suggest such a thing beheaded on the spot.

Just who was the woman standing before me now──

“…!”

The moment my thoughts reached that point, I snapped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back to my senses.

Hey. Kyle. Get a grip. Just because she seems ordinary for a moment, don’t let your guard down. That woman is going to hurt you someday. No—in the original story, she will definitely kill you. There is no guarantee that today’s kindness won’t become tomorrow’s blade. Don’t waver. You’re supposed to be running away.

As I tried to pull myself together, she spoke.

“Sir Lowenheim.”

“…Yes?”

“How does one remove a stain like this? It refuses to come out no matter what I do.”

Victoria was frowning deeply, scrubbing at an old stain on the table with fierce determination. Her expression was so gravely serious that I nearly burst out laughing.

“…That is an old mark, Your Highness. It does not come out easily. You may leave it as it is.”

“Hmm. …For there to be something this one’s hands cannot clean. How unacceptable.”

She wrestled with the stain for a long time before finally giving up, pouting her lips in clear frustration. The sight was… decidedly un-princess-like.

…And before I knew it, I caught myself smiling faintly as I watched her.

This is bad. My heart keeps softening. No matter how many times I tell myself to stay sharp, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every time she shows a side like this, it feels like another piece of the dam is crumbling away. This is dangerous. A definite warning sign.

After we somehow finished cleaning, Victoria prepared to leave. She pulled her hood down low once more and straightened her commoner’s cloak.

“I ate well, Sir Lowenheim.”

She turned to look at me. “It has been truly… a very long time. Since I last had such a warm meal.”

There was no trace of the earlier playfulness in her voice. Only calm, sincere gratitude. For some reason, I found it difficult to meet her eyes directly and lowered my gaze.

“…I am glad it suited your taste.”

“Make it for me again next time.”

“…I will do my best.”

I followed her out to see her off. “The night is late. Allow me to escort you to your quarters──”

“It is fine.”

Victoria raised a hand to stop me. “I shall go alone. I came disguised to avoid detection; if the Vice Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guard were to accompany me, it would draw attention in its own way.”

…She had a point. I nodded awkwardly and stopped at the doorway.

She had taken several steps into the dark corridor when she suddenly paused. Without thinking, I called out.

“…Your Highness.”

“Hmm?”

“…What do you plan to do… from now on, Your Highness?”

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. It was far too dangerous a question. Asking what she intended to do next could be taken as inquiring about the rebellion—or about me. Neither was a question an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠imperial guard should pose to an imperial princess.

But I couldn’t help it. I needed to know if this woman was truly that ‘villainess.’ What this kindness I had witnessed today meant. And whether I truly needed to run from her.

…All those tangled thoughts had spilled out in a single sentence.

Victoria remained silent for a moment. Her back, illuminated by a single shaft of moonlight, stood perfectly still. The brief silence felt like the quiet of someone carefully choosing their answer.

At last.

“…Who knows.”

Victoria spoke slowly. “That is something we shall have to wait and see.”

Then she turned her head.

…It was then that it happened.

The clumsy, almost endearing woman who had pouted while wiping the table was gone. Beneath the hood, blood-red eyes swept over me in a languid gaze. Those eyes, gleaming fiercely in the darkness, were filled with overwhelming arrogance. The eyes of the future empress who looked down upon everything beneath her feet, believing the world was hers without question, seemed to whisper directly into my soul as if to carve the words into my bones.

A chill ran down my spine like ice water.

…That’s right. I had almost forgotten. This woman could return to those eyes at any moment, whether she was smiling gently or wiping a table. The woman who carried both today’s kindness and tomorrow’s blade within the same face. That was Victoria von Roseria.

“…Farewell, Your Highness. May you go safely.”

I suppressed the tremor in my voice and bowed deeply. When I lifted my head, she had already vanished into the darkness. As if she had never been there at all. As if the warm dinner, the clumsy dishwashing—everything—had been nothing more than a fleeting dream.

Alone in the corridor, only the cold night wind remained. I leaned my back against the closed door and let out a long breath.

“…Hey, Kyle Lowenheim.”

I muttered quietly to myself. “You really need to get your head on straight.”

I had nearly been fooled by the warmth of tonight. But that final look in her eyes had snapped me back to reality.

I have to escape. Before that kindness completely destroys me.

I recalled it once more. In the original story, how the first to die—Kyle Lowenheim—had met his end. It wasn’t by sword or arrow.

It was poison.

Thinking about it now, it was obvious. The name Lowenheim meant “lion’s house” in the old tongue. A martial family that had guarded the emperor’s side for generations, their crest bearing a lion. The lion that protected the throne. That was the name I had carried.

And as the living embodiment of that lion house and the Emperor’s Sword, I was a man counted among the mere handful across the empire who could not be defeated in direct combat. The largest, strongest wall that would stand in the princess’s path the moment she drew her sword of rebellion.

Therefore, the single greatest obstacle to the princess’s rebellion right now… was none other than me.

For the rose to claim the throne, she first had to silence the lion.

But cutting the lion down openly would cost the knight order far too much blood. …So the princess had chosen poison instead of a blade. Before the night of the uprising arrived, she had quietly removed the greatest hindrance.

The one who had felled him first was none other than a single bowl of poison personally offered by the princess herself.

The single line that read “he collapsed, vomiting blood” had referred to exactly that.

Recalling the truth sent another chill racing down my spine.

…Just now. Only moments ago. I had shared a meal with that woman. We had fed each other with our own hands. Kindly. So very kindly.

“…….”

I slowly looked down at my hand. The same hand that had lifted food to her lips. The same me who had accepted the piece of chicken she prepared without the slightest suspicion and devoured it.

Cold sweat slid down my back.

Someday, that woman would offer me a bowl laced with poison while wearing that exact same gentle expression. And I, knowing nothing, would accept it with a smile just like today.

“……Haa.”

A peaceful daily life had never existed. From the beginning, I wasn’t a side character in this story—I was the obstacle that had to be erased first.

Deep in the night, Victoria walked the corridor alone on her way back. The warmth of that single bowl still lingered in her mouth. The same warmth lingered inside her chest. Every spoonful he had fed her remained there, refusing to cool.

She had reached a place where the path split in two when it happened.

Flap.

A single pair of black wings cut through the darkness and settled onto a dry branch beside the fork in the road. It was a crow.

Between its pitch-black feathers, two eyes gleamed with a damp, unnatural light that was not starlight. …It was the Crow Messenger, a servant controlled by her people.

The crow moved its beak. From its small body flowed a low, sunken human voice that did not belong to any bird.

Victoria did not answer.

The crow’s eyes flashed in the darkness. 「Only you, Your Highness, can break the Emperor’s Sword. If Kyle Lowenheim disappears… the throne will be yours.」

Having delivered its message, the crow bowed its head deeply as if in promise of more to come. Then, with a flutter of black wings, it vanished into the night sky.

What remained was silence. And Victoria, standing alone before the forked path.

“…….”

Victoria let out a long, endless sigh.

She knew. She knew it all too well. What the crow had whispered was an undeniable truth. The largest, strongest wall standing in the path to the throne… was none other than that man.

She knew it better than anyone. Because the version of herself before regression had reached the exact same conclusion at that same crossroads. If a wall blocks the path, one simply has to tear it down.

──If only Kyle Lowenheim disappeared.

That was why this one had poured the poison into that bowl without the slightest hesitation.

…But back then, she had not known. She had not known that the wall she tore down with her own hands was the one and only source of warmth she would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ever have in her entire life.

“……How resentful you are, Kyle.”

Victoria looked up at the night sky and whispered softly. If not for you, this one would have walked this path again without hesitation. The throne, revenge, tearing down this filthy imperial palace—I would have done it all without blinking, just as I did before regression.

But you. That rough bowl of food. That awkward spoon you lifted to my lips… they have made this one’s steps so unbearably heavy.

How resentful. Truly, how resentful.

And for that same reason, how lovable. It feels as though I might go mad.

Haa…

Victoria looked down at the forked path before her. One road led to her palace, where those preparing the uprising waited only for her decision. The other led back to the place she had just left—his quarters.

The path to the throne, and the path to him.

The Victoria before regression would not have hesitated for even a single breath at this crossroads.

But the Victoria of now… could not take a single step in either direction.

“…….”

The night grew deeper still.