Until Knight Amelie Betrays Everything (3)
Amelie Grace's mind was unyielding. Her devotion and loyalty to her nation were deeply ingrained, forming a resilient spirit that would rather shatter than bend. My goal wasn't to destroy her psyche outright, but to twist her loyalty and devotion, redirecting them toward me instead. That required delicate handling.
To achieve it, I needed repeated encounters with her. With Roys Chapel's help as a merchant leader, I built a rapport. In the end, even after our trade route discussions concluded, she naturally started spending time with me. Mostly, it involved listening to her grumble about her stagnant love life.
"Seriously, isn't that general just way too oblivious...?"
"Haha, yeah, he's got a bit of a dense side."
Two massive emotions dominated her: loyalty to the empire, slightly edged out by her affection for the general. To stoke resentment toward me without building it, I had to balance those feelings first. The key was creating an opening—by pitting them against each other.
Loyalty to the empire. Affection for the general, just a touch smaller. I inflated that affection a bit. Now evenly matched, I let them clash fiercely.
Why couldn't she confess her love to the general freely? Because her body was bound to the nation. As a knight of Emor Kingdom, loving a rebel was an emotion she could never be permitted.
The old her would have suppressed that affection with patriotism and unwavering duty. But not anymore. The artificially swollen love for the general sparked a faint dissatisfaction with her homeland in her—a light, superficial gripe, like one felt toward overprotective parents.
Still, the important thing is that negative feelings have taken root.
I amplified that budding negativity, linking various memories and emotions to fan the small spark into flames. I repurposed her past recollections and feelings to fuel the current ones.
The mercenary band's astronomical offer to recruit her. She'd rejected it outright, but she'd felt a twinge of regret at the massive wealth on display. I built on that memory, adding meat to her emotions.
I twisted recollections of self-deprecating jokes about knights' meager pay. I diminished the sense of reward from her nation's loyalty. I planted the thought: Emor Kingdom doesn't fully value me.
Through repeated manipulations, her steadfast loyalty to her homeland wavered just enough that she yearned to advance her relationship with the general.
She took my advice seriously: If I persuade him not as an 'enemy general' but as a 'lover,' it'll surely work.
"Just like you said, if I can join with him inside this cursed land and convince him... everything would fall into place. He definitely likes me too..."
"Exactly. But there's still plenty of time... no need to rush, right?"
"Hehe, Leon Sodus. We're the ones who need to wipe the Demon King from the world as soon as possible—how could we afford to take it easy?"
She wore the evening dress I'd gifted her, twirling her wine glass with long fingers as she smiled. Her desire to be loved by the general grew by the day.
And I planned to shatter it utterly.
"...Shall I arrange a meeting with the general for you?"
"You can do that?!"
She lit up, then looked apologetic. "But Young Master Leon... are you really okay with that...?"
Pretending deep affection for her had led her to believe I was pining for her love.
"Yes. If things get sorted out clearly, it'd be easier for me to move on cleanly."
"...Leon."
Amelie Grace gazed at me with pity. It wouldn't be long before that gaze shifted from blind loyalty to feverish lust.
I kept my desires from showing on my face and arranged the meeting for her.
How to shatter her inflated love for the general? Make him unworthy of her love. Make even a shred of affection feel repulsive.
I waited for her, sharing a drink with the general. To prove he could never be loved by her, I'd arranged for all three of us to meet.
I'd expected a tough challenge, but the young, radical republican played right into my hands.
"Your thinking is wrong. There's no room for even the slightest compromise."
The general scowled, replying with clear displeasure. "So, does that mean every ruling class member—especially the royals—has no choice but to hang? That's too..."
Dressed in the sheer black gown I'd gifted her to impress the general, she stood frozen outside the door, overhearing everything.
I dulled the general's social awareness, blinding him to how his words would land on others. I maxed out his zeal for republicanism, rage at the elite, and sorrow for the suffering masses, ramping up the intensity of his rhetoric.
Forgetting his audience included a noble's son and a ducal stakeholder, the flushed, drunken general spat fury, spittle flying.
"Damn right it's radical—radical as hell."
He slammed back another drink and wrapped up. "Monarchy sees everyone but kings and nobles as disposable tools for their whims. Might've served a purpose once... but now, with the people's civic awareness grown, it needs to vanish."
"You think the elite will peacefully share their power without radical action? It'll only end when they're all dead..."
"...You're a bit more extreme than usual."
"Extreme how? Every royal and noble is a living symbol of classism. They all need to return to the dirt."
I tuned his emotions for impulsive outbursts without reflection, focusing him on the cathartic release.
"...Even those collaborators—do they need to disappear too? Like the kingdom's knights...?"
"Ah, the collaborators."
He grimaced in disgust. "Worthless scum. No better than dogs mindlessly guarding their master. Filthy parasites gnawing scraps from their lord."
A faint sob echoed from beyond the door.
...Right on plan.
As the general ranted on, I blocked thoughts of his cherished Amelie Grace. He liked the pink-haired knight. He believed she deserved better. In his dreamed republic, everyone got treatment matching their talents—he thought that would make her happy too.
Interesting.
"The king's dogs," "dirty blades oppressing free folk," "brainwashed idiots"—he spewed venom at the royal collaborators, blind to Amelie Grace being one of them.
He wanted her happy, yet unwittingly tore her heart apart. Oblivious to her pain beyond the door, he kept wounding her with his words.
Time for him to leave...
The general exceeded expectations. Now it was time for his exit. I amplified his drunken euphoria and suppressed restraint. After excitedly blabbering on, he downed drink after drink—unlike his usual self—then staggered out, spent.
Stepping outside, I saw her huddled in the corner.
"...Amelie."
"Don't look."
Head bowed, she said, "Just... turn around... and go."
Her words broke choppily, like she was holding back tears. Emotion scan showed her deeply shaken. Her overinflated love, cracked and crumbling.
"Just... go alreadyyy..."
"Your makeup's running."
"Leave it. Anyway... this kind of thing... was never right for me."
As she wiped her smudged mascara, I unleashed my ability on her. Her heart was a wreck. Like a cracked vessel failing its purpose, her love for the general leaked away.
I heightened her sense of betrayal, amplified her rage at the republican. As cracks widened, affection drained faster. Before her love evaporated into nothing, I transferred it to the vessel of me.
Like pouring water from one container to another, I slowly redirected her affection for the general toward myself.
"It suits you so perfectly—such a shame, isn't it?"
I complimented her dress. The black one I'd given her contrasted beautifully with her pink hair.
"...Hehe."
She gave a bitter smile, then a faint one. "...Young Master really likes me, huh."
In her heart, the desire rose: to be loved by someone who liked her. I let that newborn longing swell, its melody drowning all else.
Her affection surged in an instant, startling even her. Reading her fleeting thoughts was endlessly amusing.
Am I... really someone who falls in love this fast...?
...Adorably monopolizable.
I pulled her to her feet, gripped her chin. "...Mmph, wha...?"
Slowly tilting her head, I brought my lips close.
"...."
Curiosity and attraction outweighed her fluster. She squirmed a bit, then squeezed her eyes shut and pressed into the kiss.
Lips meshed seamlessly. A soft ahh escaped as I ravaged her mouth. The alien sensation of my tongue invading hers—she savored it too. Sticky, slurping frictions filled the quiet parlor.
"...Phah..."
After that intense kiss—not too long, not too short—she floundered back to reality seconds later.
"Ah, uh, umm."
Her ears flushed as vividly as her pink hair. "So, like, this is, uh."
Gesturing wildly to express her jumbled feelings, she soon gave up. "Anyway, uh, see you later!"
As if mana-fueled her steps, she fled to her quarters in a flash. Frightened by how swiftly her emotions grew, she escaped the moment.