Chapter 3: Kking? That's Not It.
A chill wind slipped through the window crack, brushing my cheek. As soon as I opened my eyes, I wasn't staring at the familiar wall of my old one-room apartment but at the antique wall of the Winterfell Ducal Residence.
"Oh, right. I got isekai'd yesterday."
I sat up in bed, stretching, and my joints screamed in protest. No doubt I'd tossed and turned all night thanks to that bone-rattling carriage ride and Beatrice's murderous aura the moment we met.
I'm alive. For now.
Half-worried my head might've been lopped off overnight, I touched my neck and threw open the window. The northern sun was rising over an endless expanse of snowfields. The blindingly white world was beautiful—but chillingly cold at the same time. Another day of fighting to survive was about to begin.
That's when that infuriating pink window popped up in my retina, right on cue.
Your first morning in the North has dawned! The lady is waiting to dine with you! 😘
Content: At breakfast, smile and say to the lady, "Betty, you're even more beautiful today!"
Success Reward: Beatrice's Preference Data (Food Edition)
Refusal Penalty: Forced Cute Mode for 1 hour—append "kking" to the end of every sentence! 💕
"Waiting? More like surveilling me."
"......Are you insane?"
A curse slipped out. In this brutal North, making kking noises would socially execute me for sure. Conclusion: To survive, I had to flirt, even if it killed me.
I practiced pulling up the corners of my mouth in front of the mirror. My face felt like it was cramping.
Knock knock.
"Your Highness, are you awake? I'll assist with your morning ablutions."
The head butler's dry voice came with the door opening. But he wasn't alone. Beside him stood a girl my age with brown hair and brown eyes.
"Your Highness, this is Luna, your dedicated maid from now on. Luna, greet him."
"I'm Luna, assigned as Your Highness's personal maid starting today. The lady specially appointed me."
Her youthful face broke into a warm smile as she bowed— the first glimpse of genuine humanity in Winterfell.
"Nice to meet you, Luna. I'll be in your care. I'm heading to breakfast now—mind helping me get ready?"
"Of course, Your Highness. Right away."
Thanks to Luna's help, I was ready in three minutes flat and followed her to the dining hall.
Beatrice was already seated at the head of the table, eating, flanked by maids standing in perfect formation like some grand spectacle.
"Sit, Your Highness. Northern fare is rougher than the palace's."
She said it without looking up. I took a seat near the head, about to dig in, when the mission flashed in my mind.
Now? Do it now?
What if I wait and the kking kicks in? Screw it.
I couldn't focus on food, my mind racing. Finally, steeling myself, I flashed the smile I'd practiced and went for it.
"Your Highness, is the food not to your—"
"Betty, you're even more beautiful today. Seeing you grow more stunning every day means nothing but happy ones ahead for me."
Clang!
A maid behind us dropped a teacup. Beatrice's fork froze. She slowly lifted her head, her blood-red eyes narrowing in icy suspicion.
"......What did you just say?"
"That you're beautiful. Was my morning greeting too late?"
I squinted playfully, smiling brazenly before burying my face in my plate.
Reward: Beatrice actually loves sweets but drinks only bitter coffee to maintain her dignity.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck, dodged the kking but now what?
"Prince."
"Yes...?"
I'm dead.
On second thought, maybe getting the kking debuff and being treated like a lunatic would've been better.
"Prince."
Her icy call felt like a death sentence.
"Are you mocking me? Or does the imperial family have a custom of such flattery at breakfast?"
Her voice was low and menacing, but oddly shaky—aftershocks from my "beautiful" bomb, no doubt. She'd been rattled. Time to go all-in.
I looked up, smiled using the new intel, and said, "Mocking? I just thought you seemed buried in bitterness. The world looks crooked when your heart's heavy."
I subtly slid the sugar bowl her way.
Beatrice's eyes flickered. Sure, she was fated to murder me in two years—but flip it: she had to wait that long to do it. Right? God, I hope so.
She glanced indifferently, picked up a sugar cube, and dropped it in her coffee.
"......Nosy, aren't you? After breakfast, you're coming with me to see my uncle."
"Your uncle, Betty?"
"Yes. He's helped me immensely since I took over as ducal proxy young. And Your Highness—I told you yesterday, that nickname is only for when we're alone."
No harsh pressure, though—thanks, sugar.
"Oh right! Sorry, got carried away. Won't happen again."
She just nodded, sipping her now-sweetened coffee, no reply.
After breakfast, we headed to the annex where her uncle stayed. It was near the main residence—not as grand but spacious and charming. The corridor felt warmer than the main hall, but the air had an odd, discordant vibe. It was too quiet, so I spoke up.
"Lady, anything I should watch out for?"
"Just act the opposite of our first meeting, Prince."
I shut my mouth. Way too blunt. She even okayed the nickname eventually.
Quietly sulking inside, we reached Lord Lucas's room. The door opened to a middle-aged man with a kind smile.
Lucas Winterfell. Unlike Betty, he gave off a warm, gentle impression.
"Ah, so you're the Elian Prince from the capital. I worried my brusque niece might've made you uncomfortable."
He smiled warmly at her—a doting uncle through and through.
"Not at all, Lord Lucas. Betty's been great to me."
His eyes narrowed briefly, then softened. "Betty... Heh, you're close already. Good. Come, Prince—I've prepared fine northern tea. Sit."
Betty glared, but payback for earlier. She couldn't do squat in front of her uncle. Right?
The chat with Lord Lucas was surprisingly enjoyable. He described the North's harshness while wistfully recalling capital culture, steering the talk smoothly. Betty stood arms crossed, radiating chill, but he chuckled like at a silly niece, keeping things light.
I'm saved. This guy's reasonable.
My shoulders finally relaxed—first time since Winterfell. He avoided imperial politics or authority, just a gracious host to a far-off guest.
"Heh, time flies. Don't want to hold up my busy niece. Prince, will you visit this old man again?"
"Of course. I enjoyed our talk, Lord Lucas. I'll drop by often."
Feeling like I'd met a decent elder, I left the annex beaming—until Betty halted beside me.
"......You seem pleased, Your Highness."
Her voice was lower, colder than at breakfast.
What? Why's she mad? The Betty slip in front of uncle?
"Yeah, Lord Lucas seems to like me. So kind."
She stepped close, whispering in my ear. "Don't forget, Your Highness—this is Winterfell. Not all hospitality is what it seems. That innocence of yours could turn into a blade at your throat anytime."
She turned coldly and vanished. I stood dazed, watching her go.
Was that a murder threat? 'Don't get cocky'?
Guess clearing the morning mission had me too cocky.
"Luna."
"Yes, Your Highness."
To my new maid, I said, "Lady's busy, went ahead. I'll tour the castle. Any library nearby? Need to kill time with a book."
"The Winterfell Library? There's a massive one on the second floor of the main residence. Shall I guide you?"
Fist clenched, I followed Luna. Time to cool off and dig for info.