Found Out by the Imperial Princess (1)
It was late in the afternoon when I learned the imperial princess might be poisoned again.
At that exact moment, I was crouched in the backyard, stealthily plucking green onions from my landlord's garden patch. My conscience pricked me a little, but a man had to eat.
This scallion was the solitary garnish destined for the watery broth I planned to choke down alongside bread harder than a masonry brick. After all, getting your vitamins was essential for survival.
It had been six months since I transmigrated into this world.
I hadn't awakened as a chosen hero, nor had I become a legendary adventurer. I was merely an ordinary nobody, scraping by as a temporary clerk at the Adventurer Guild's complaints window.
Virtually every copper of my meager salary evaporated into rent and groceries. If I wanted to survive, worrying about feeding myself until the next payday took precedence over whatever apocalyptic ruin the original story's villainesses might unleash.
Just as I was about to tear the purloined scallion into pieces and toss it into the pot, a familiar window flickered into view before my eyes.
Dinner has been prepared. The aroma and color seem no different from usual, and the servants insist there is nothing wrong with it. However, my third older brother personally sent this dish to me. Would it be better if I skipped dinner again?
I set down the green onion in my hand.
HasThreeBrothers.
Judging by the handle alone, one might assume the poster was some ordinary young woman venting about domestic squabbles. But I knew the true identity behind those words all too well.
Erzsebet Aurelia. The fourth imperial princess of the Empire, and one of the most prolific mass-murdering villainesses in the game I had cleared eleven times.
Her three older half-brothers took turns slipping poison into her meals to eliminate her from the line of succession. Yet in the original storyline, Erzsebet miraculously endured every attempt, paid back their toxins in full, and sacrificed half the imperial capital's population in a blood ritual to become the feared Empress of Poison Blood.
Watching it unfold on a computer screen made for a gripping, cathartic revenge drama, if undeniably gruesome. Naturally, that perspective changed drastically the moment I became a living, breathing resident of said capital.
Pushing the dry bread and cold broth aside, I typed out a response to the secret post.
Only after reading her confirmation that she hadn't touched the meal did the knot in my chest loosen slightly. But the reprieve was fleeting.
I collected my thoughts, shifting entirely into counselor mode.
In my previous life, I had worked as a customer support contractor for a gaming studio, but after clocking out, I had spent my nights studying to become a certified counselor.
Though I had been dropped into this foreign world before earning my official credentials, I had thoroughly absorbed the fundamentals: above all else, knowing what questions to ask someone trapped in an acute crisis.
It read like dark banter, but I couldn't bring myself to smile. She possessed both the cold capability and the monstrous cruelty to carry it out on a whim.
We had to defuse this immediate peril first.
The replies abruptly ceased.
It was hardly surprising, given that I had just instructed Erzsebet Aurelia herself to weep in front of a gallery of onlookers. Across my eleven playthroughs, never once had that cold, ruthlessly calculating princess been depicted shedding tears before her treacherous brothers.
Yet if she put her mind to it, she was someone who could mimic the poise of a saint without breaking a sweat. It was entirely within her capabilities.
A few moments later, another message arrived.
My fingers froze above the interface keyboard.
Her imperial parents neglected her, while her three older brothers lined up to poison her like vermin. Even if Erzsebet had wept, the chances of anyone offering solace were virtually zero. To her, crying was never even an avenue for seeking help.
I instinctively started to type that she should just cry anyway, but caught myself and wiped the sentence clean. Nor did I offer empty platitudes like it's okay to cry.
What she required right now wasn't superficial comfort, but a rational, compelling framework explaining why such an act was strategically sound. That was the 'walkthrough' to her psyche I had pieced together over our counseling sessions.
No response followed right away, but her online indicator remained green. She was reading every word.
I refrained from prodding her further. In the end, I was only a counselor. Which path to walk was a choice Erzsebet had to make for herself.
A few moments later, her connection icon blinked out.
Whether Erzsebet had taken my advice or simply logged off out of boredom without so much as a parting word, I couldn't know. Regardless, sitting in my dilapidated rented room, I possessed no means of observing the grand banquet hall of the imperial palace.
I took a spoonful of the lukewarm soup. Perhaps because of the freshly torn scallion, it tasted passably edible.
Come to think of it, Erzsebet had casually mentioned having green onion soup as well.
...Wait, do imperial royals even eat scallion soup?
All at once, the meager broth lost whatever little flavor it had. It had never been particularly appetizing to begin with, but layered with an eerie, creeping chill down my spine, it tasted downright repulsive.
The sunlight beyond the window slanted toward dusk. The muffled chatter of passersby in the alley drifted on as usual, and the bells of the nearby tower had yet to chime for vespers.
If this were a video game, selecting a dialogue choice would immediately transition the screen, confirming success or failure in a neat few lines of text. Real human beings didn't function like that.
Erzsebet needed time to offer the dish, draw the eyes of the room, and have her escorts seize the evidence. In the interim, someone might pressure her to swallow the poison.
Setting the bowl down, I refreshed the forum board. No new posts.
I paced toward the window, then turned back. I plucked another strand of green onion, but found myself unable to drop it into the bowl, merely shredding it absentmindedly between my fingers.
When I first assumed administration of this gallery, I offered counsel purely out of a desperate desire to stay alive. The world I transmigrated into was identical to the fantasy game I had cleared eleven times.
If the villainesses darkened into their canonical roles, the Empire, the Holy See, and the North would collapse in domino-like devastation.
A penniless commoner devoid of sword skills or magic stood zero chance of surviving such an apocalypse. Thus, my reasoning was simple: persuade the villainesses to make different choices before they hurtled down the path of destruction.
For six months, I had spent two hours every single day reading their posts and writing replies. I told BasementVoices never to answer the eerie whispers echoing from her cellar. When she heeded the warning, the supernatural freak cold wave destined to freeze the northern territories never materialized.
I advised EndlessPrayer to halt the medication prescribed to her by the Pope and observe herself for a single day. That very night, she reported sleeping peacefully without nightmares for the first time in memory.
In the beginning, it had been cold, pragmatic strategy for self-preservation. Yet reading their posts day after day, it became difficult to view it so clinically.
They weren't scripted NPCs cycling through predetermined dialogue; they were living, breathing individuals who skipped meals and tossed restlessly through the night, anxiously waiting for my responses.
Erzsebet was no different. Before she became the monster who would slaughter half the imperial capital, right now she was simply someone who couldn't even enjoy a family dinner without fearing for her life.
At least to me, that was who she was.
Just then, a notification chime rang out. Almost on reflex, I snapped open the board.
I did precisely as you instructed. The tears came far more easily than I expected.
Rather than asking for the outcome, I inquired about her well-being first.
At that, my brother slapped my hand away before everyone present. Some of the food spilled across the marble floor, but my escort knights secured the plate and the remaining contents.
A servant attempted to clear it away, but my guards intercepted him immediately. I brought the banquet to a halt right then and there, formally demanding an official inspection.
My third older brother went pale as a sheet and fled the hall first.
...Thank you, Counselor. Once again, your counsel has saved me. So, perhaps one of these days, we could share a meal together...?
The lingering tension drained from my rigid shoulders.
Erzsebet was alive and well. She hadn't ingested the suspected toxin, nor had she forced it down her brother's throat. The physical evidence had been preserved intact.
Dozens of witnesses had watched her brother violently reject the very meal he had offered.
In the original storyline, Erzsebet never sought to formally prove the assassination attempts. She endured the fatal poison, lingered at death's door, and upon surviving, concocted deadlier poisons to visit upon her third brother in kind.
This time was different. Erzsebet had voluntarily chosen the alternative method I laid out, and through that choice, the reality of this world had shifted.
I had merely assumed that was the natural order of things. Evidence and perpetrators only held meaning if the victim was still breathing. Yet to Erzsebet, having someone verify her safety before anything else was evidently an alien concept.
The moment her final reply registered, the gallery interface washed over in radiant white light.
Records of completed consultations materialized in succession.
• Suspicious meal halted. Retaliation postponed; physical evidence secured.
• Prescribed medication discontinued. Peaceful sleep without nightmares achieved for the first time.
• Underground voices unanswered. Abnormal catastrophic freeze in the North averted.
[ The probability of reality's destruction has decreased due to the members' voluntary actions. ]
[ Administrator privileges have been expanded. ]
[ Attachment Appraisal Feature has been unlocked. ]
"Attachment Appraisal?"
The gallery had always possessed a photo attachment feature. However, any identifying visual data—such as faces, names, or precise geographic landmarks—had always been automatically obscured by the system.
I had no idea how deeply this newly unlocked function could analyze items. Seeing as I had no images to inspect right now anyway, I refrained from tampering with it and closed the interface.
What mattered far more than any system perk was the notification preceding it: The probability of reality's destruction has decreased.
The supernatural blizzard dissipating in the North and the Saintess sleeping without nightmares were not coincidences. Whenever a client listened to my counsel and chose a different path of their own free will, the preordained ruin genuinely drifted off course.
Today was proof positive. Erzsebet had taken a step back from the path toward becoming the Empress of Poison Blood, and because of that, both I and half the capital's population had earned a chance at living just a little longer.
I dumped the remaining scallion into my chilled soup. The taste remained utterly lackluster, but it went down far smoother than before.
By the time I finished eating and scrubbed the bowl clean, twilight had surrendered to night. The evening bells resonated from the distant stone tower, and warm lanterns flickered awake along the cobblestone alley outside.
Today's session had concluded without a hitch.
Tomorrow morning, I would return to my post at the guild's complaints window, listening to rowdy adventurers complain about misplaced bounties and damp sleeping bags. Even if I altered the destinies of an imperial princess and an entire empire under the veil of anonymity, in reality, I remained an underpaid temporary clerk.
Still, I quite liked my quiet lot in life.
The forum members knew neither the Administrator's name, appearance, nor social standing. Any direct identifying details were scrubbed clean by the system, and the casual breadcrumbs I dropped amounted to nothing more than mundane ramblings about the weather, bell tolls, or bread prices.
There was no earthly way anyone could track me down in reality.
Thoroughly satisfied with my day's work, I smiled and slipped into bed. But the very second I pulled the blanket up to my chin, a sharp sound shattered the silence.
Knock, knock.
I bolted upright on pure instinct, reaching for my coin pouch before freezing mid-motion. The landlord had collected my rent mere days ago. There was no reason for him to seek me out at this hour.
Knock, knock.
Two raps again, measured with flawless symmetry. An eerily composed knocking.
It didn't sound like a drunken tenant stumbling against the wrong door. There was no haste in the rhythm, yet it carried an unshakable certainty that whoever stood outside had no intention of leaving.
I stood up slowly. The only objects in the room remotely resembling weapons were a dull bread knife and a cracked earthenware jug.
As I edged toward the entrance, a woman's voice drifted in through the wooden door.
"Are you inside?"
It was an exquisitely melodious voice, one I had never heard in the flesh. Yet unnervingly, it resonated with unmistakable familiarity.
"...Who is it?"
The woman on the other side didn't state her name. Instead, she spoke words known only to her and to me.
"Revenge later."
My heart dropped into my stomach.
"Meals on time."
Before my mind could catch up, my trembling lips completed the phrase.
"Don't kill people."
Click.
A latch snapped open, though I hadn't laid a finger on the deadbolt.
Creeeeak.
With a faint, mournful groan, the wooden door swung inward. A slender figure stood bathed in the shadows of the dimly lit corridor.
The instant she slipped her hood back, locks of shimmering silver-white hair cascaded down past her shoulders. Sharp, crystalline violet eyes locked unwaveringly onto mine.
It was a face I had gazed upon countless times across eleven grueling playthroughs.
Mainly as my most terrifying nemesis.
The destined villainess who would one day butcher her three older brothers and offer half the capital as a blood sacrifice.
Yet on this day, a woman who hadn't killed a single soul.
A faint, breathtaking smile curved Erzsebet Aurelia's lips.
"I've finally found you, Counselor."