Chapter 15: ??? : What I Desire is My Whole Body Drenched Sticky...
Lord Lucas Winterfell's red eyes pierced right through me.
It felt just like the blank faces of those villagers from the fable, staring me down as if to say, 'You're no longer needed here.'
I downed the rest of the fine liquor in my glass in one gulp. The harsh burn slid down my throat, warming my chest.
I set the empty glass on the table and laid out my thoughts plainly to Lord Lucas.
"I don't believe the world is fair. But the value of 'need' is fair to everyone. That traveler in your fable died not because the villagers were evil, but because he was no longer needed."
Lord Lucas's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. I sank deeper into my chair and continued.
"If it were me, I wouldn't just share the knowledge. I'd create a structure where the entire village collapses without me. If the traveler's method for sprouting seeds only worked with a 'special fertilizer' he alone could make—and without it, the crops would wither the very next year—the villagers wouldn't chase him off with sickles. They'd grovel at his feet, begging for more fertilizer. That's the way of survival I believe in."
I lightly raised my glass toward Lord Lucas.
A brief silence fell.
Lord Lucas set his glass down and burst into a hearty laugh.
"Hahaha! Indeed, not a traveler, but a conqueror! As expected of imperial blood. Far more intriguing than I imagined." He fixed his gaze on me. "Very well. It's late—let's call it a night. Come chat with this old man again soon."
"Of course, Lord Lucas. Have a peaceful evening."
I gave a polite bow and slipped out of the study.
The door clicked shut behind me, leaving only the echo of my footsteps in the silent corridor.
I paused and glanced back at the annex I'd just left.
Ah, did I come off too MZ-gen, just dumping my hot takes? He won't see me as some rude punk now, right?
Something felt off. There was still liquor left in the bottle, and he subtly wrapped things up here instead of seeing me out the door like before.
"Even in the real world, elders were tricky. Next time, just nod along and play nice."
On my way back to my room, I looked up at the sky.
The moon looks extra pretty tonight. If it tilts right, that's a waxing gibbous, right?
It's been over a month and a half in the north, and my business is about to skyrocket even higher. Plus, I'm handsome, and things with Betty are getting better by the day.
If this keeps up, maybe Betty won't kill me. We could just be solid business partners.
Walking alone after that strong drink has my mind wandering everywhere.
"Hey, System. Do I have to go full romance? Betty's my type and all, but am I even doing this right?"
That question cracked open all the worries I'd buried deep inside.
Ding!
Winterfell's Red Revolution (Not that revolution!)
🎁 Reward:Original Setting Collection - Prince Rian and the Ice Duchess
Suddenly, just the text popped up, followed by scenes from the original novel unfolding before my eyes.
In the original story, Rian was so overwhelmed by Betty's presence on their first meeting that he could barely breathe, meekly going along with everything like a total pushover.
The following scenes were nothing special either. Unlike me, he took breakfast in his room alone on the second day, and aside from rare hallway encounters, he had no further contact with Betty. Total neglect.
The scene's end came two years later, on their wedding day in Winterfell—the one time original Rian ever smiled. That's when Betty's blade plunged into his neck. The end. Just an extra's role.
"Haha... so that's what original Rian was like?"
The you in the original story was truly feeble. You made no attempts, just passively accepted your fate. Betty felt zero interest watching that. In the end, you were classified as disposable fodder to kick off her revenge—SPLAT! Your life ended pathetically under Betty's blade on your wedding day. 😭
"......'Splat'? That's way too brutal."
As I furrowed my brow, colorful petal effects burst around the status window again.
💖 But don't worry! You're doing great right now! You've rejected your scripted fate and are writing your own story. No matter what choices or quests I give you, the methods and will to tackle them come straight from you.
"You said you'd kill me if I didn't, though;;"
Anyway! Unlike original Rian, you're killing it! If original Betty was an unmelting glacier, current Betty's surface is still cold, but she's slowly thawing from the inside—without even realizing it.
Over the past month and a half since possessing this body, I'd agonized inwardly countless times about whether I was on the right path. But one simple "You're doing great" from the System melted those doubts away. Of course, the massive gap between original Rian/Betty and me/Betty helped too. Kid, if you're a man, act like one.
"Hey, thanks."
😍 Of course, I wanna see that glacier fully melt and crash over you as a tsunami. lol You'd get swept up, unable to escape, your whole body soaking wet and sticky...
I was dumbfounded by the status window trying to veer perverted again, but I couldn't help chuckling.
"Stop. This flower-brained thing always says something nice then screws it up at the end."
With my heart much lighter, I headed to my room.
Right after Rian left the room.
Alone now, Lucas poured the remaining liquor into his glass.
"Intriguing. It's like a completely different person slipped into his body."
Knock knock. Creak—
"Ah, niece. Care to sit and share the rest of this liquor?"
"His Highness looked quite grave walking back alone. Did you say something to him?"
Beatrice was already seated. Lucas stared at the empty glass Rian had left behind and let out another hearty laugh.
"Just shared a simple old tale."
Lucas downed his glass in one go, then murmured lowly.
"......The prince I knew wasn't like that. Handsome face aside, he was a frail, spineless weakling who could barely breathe without trembling. But the one sitting before me now... felt like an entirely different person in the same shell. And now he's even started that Winter Rose Pepper business?"
Lucas looked up, staring hard at Betty. Beneath his kindly uncle facade, a sinister doubt seeped through.
"So, what're you thinking, letting that prince launch a business?"
Beatrice replied flatly, her posture unflinching.
"I simply wanted to test his abilities this time. Plus, redirecting the profits into military funds has slashed our timeline. We could execute as early as one year from now."
Beatrice pulled out a map and stack of documents from her bosom with a cold expression, spreading them across the table. The study's air turned into a frigid war room in an instant.
"Preparations are on track. Excluding the Imperial Guard, the capital's knight orders are rotten from within. The central nobles' heirs bought their commissions to dodge service; they're skipping training for nightly banquets. Skill levels are abysmal. Meanwhile, our Winterfell knights are battle-hardened elites."
Her pale finger sharply traced the supply routes on the map.
"We've secured the supply lines too. We're secretly buying up massive grain stocks from the empire's key western breadbaskets. Flood the market all at once, and the west—and the capital—will plunge into chaos. Once the prince's Winter Rose Pepper monopolizes the spice market, the southern economic powerhouse 'Golden Scales' will weaken naturally."
Lucas nodded in satisfaction. But soon, as if a thorny thought struck him, he lowered his voice.
"The wildcard remains Carl, the Eastern Margrave."
"He's long been the imperial family's loyal hound, and his forces are fierce—nearly a match for the north." Lucas set his glass down and cracked his knuckles. "Yes, that mutt's our biggest obstacle. If we can't neutralize the Imperial Guard before he arrives, we'll be sandwiched and slaughtered."
"To account for that, we need to block some troops on their route from the east to the capital. And we're still short on numbers."
"True, but time's on our side. I trust you."
Finishing his words, Lucas stared piercingly at Beatrice and tossed out a cruel suggestion.
"Never forget, niece: eight years ago, the empire disguised your parents' murder as a carriage accident."
At his words, Beatrice's blood-red eyes blazed fiercely.
"Of course."
"They must pay for the day they abandoned Winterfell. So when that day comes, you must kill that prince yourself to ignite the revenge. Spill imperial blood with your own hands—that's the perfect start to your vengeance. Can you do it?"
In that moment, Beatrice's ever-icy eyes wavered, ever so faintly.
Her hand unconsciously drifted to the ruby brooch Rian had gifted her, still pinned on.
A split-second silence filled the study. Beatrice finally averted her gaze and spoke.
"......Yes. You're right, Uncle. It's only natural."
The answer came, but Lucas hadn't missed her brief hesitation.
He twisted his lips into a chilling smile. "Don't tell me you've grown fond of him already?"
"No. I'll kill the prince with my own hands and herald the empire's doom."
"Good. Personal feelings only dull the blade of revenge. I expect great things, niece."
The annex's candle flames flickered, casting the pair's shadows long across the walls. Rian's "Northern Adaptation" charade was over. The real curtain was rising.