The Original Main Heroine Likes Me Too Much (2)

Liana’s hand was cold.

No—more precisely, only her fingertips were cold. The inside of her palm burned with an unnatural heat. No one who had just been drenched in wine should feel this warm. I looked down at her hand, and the words she had whispered moments earlier rose again in my mind.

This time, I will be the one to save you, Evelyn-nim.

The sentence was still lodged deep in my ear.

Save me? Who was saving whom?

I had spent seven years grinding myself down to keep Liana alive.

To keep her from being dragged away as a saintess, from taking the crown prince’s hand, from climbing onto the altar of the original story. And yet that very main heroine had seized my sleeve in front of everyone and declared that this time she would save me.

It was absurd.

I should have dismissed it as nonsense.

Yet somehow I could not laugh it off. Liana’s hand still clung to the edge of my sleeve, and her blue eyes held a stillness that was almost startling.

Only moments ago the original story’s force had twisted my wrist, and the wine had inevitably spilled across her dress. The entire banquet hall already saw me as the villainess; Liana should have broken away from me here.

Instead, the girl who had been humiliated stood behind me.

As if she had intended it from the very beginning.

Favorability 97.

The number that had floated up in crimson letters still burned before my eyes and refused to fade.

I had tried to save Liana, and at the same time I had pushed her away. I had been cold, deliberately kept my distance, drawn the line again and again—telling her that staying near me would only put her in danger. And still, 97.

…That doesn’t make any sense.

The number could not be explained by mere goodwill.

It was closer to obsession.

Or to a faith that had been stacked up over a very long time.

I lowered my gaze to the lower half of her dress.

The red wine was spreading fast. The white fabric grew heavy with moisture, and the mark that had been hidden beneath it was no longer visible.

More accurately, it was not merely invisible—it had burned away.

Because the Rosetta compound I had mixed into the wine had done its work. I no longer remembered how many nights I had wasted preparing for this moment.

The blessing mark the Temple concealed did not burn under ordinary fire. Water could not erase it either. So I had ransacked the Rosetta warehouses, stolen forbidden records, and tested aura-reactive solutions again and again.

The result was now smoldering across Liana’s dress.

The problem was that the compound looked almost identical to wine. And in the original story, Evelyn Rosetta poured wine over Liana.

There was no better scene to exploit.

So I prepared it on purpose.

But this was not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what I had wanted.

I had wanted to erase the wine-pouring scene entirely. I had not wanted to recreate Liana’s humiliation. My plan had been to quietly burn the mark inside the dress and let the banquet pass without incident.

Yet the world had insisted on the scene.

On the spectacle of me humiliating Liana.

On the flow that would bring the crown prince forward to witness it. On the ending in which everyone remembered Evelyn Rosetta as the villainess.

“Lady Rosetta.”

Kyran’s voice reached me again.

Every gaze in the banquet hall had gathered on the three of us.

The nobles kept their outward manners, but their eyes were already spinning a dozen different stories.

The Black Rose of Rosetta had doused a saintess candidate in red wine. And the crown prince had seen it.

What a delicious rumor that would make.

I tried to gently free my hand from Liana’s.

She did not let go. Uh…? Instead she gripped me even tighter. Her small, soft fingers dug into my glove as if she would never release me.

The strength was weak, but the tenacity was absolute.

I glanced at her profile. Liana remained perfectly calm. A faint smile still lingered at the corner of her lips.

Why on earth is she this composed?

She had been hit with wine and humiliated in front of everyone. The crown prince had offered his hand in salvation.

Here she should have cried.

At the very least she should have looked flustered. She was far too serene to be the Liana of the original story. In the original she had lowered her head with a wounded expression, and that fragile look had been the first thing that made Kyran take notice of her.

But the Liana of this moment had hidden behind me.

No—more than hidden. She was using me as a shield.

No.

To be more precise, she had chosen me.

“Miss Bell.”

Kyran called her name.

“You have just been insulted. There is no need for you to cover for Lady Rosetta’s discourtesy.”

Liana lifted her head.

“Your Highness.”

Her voice was polite.

Yet it held none of the fluttering excitement or gratitude I had seen in the original. It was the calm of someone who had once believed in that kindness and now knew its true nature far too well.

“I already told you I am fine.”

“This is not a matter that can simply be fine.”

“That judgment is mine to make.”

For an instant Kyran’s eyes narrowed.

The nobles inside the hall held their breath. A commoner-born saintess candidate had cut the crown prince off to his face. And at her very first debut banquet, no less.

What the hell.

I cursed silently.

Liana, what do you think you’re doing right now?

If she pushed like this, Kyran would not simply back down. He was not the incompetent crown prince so common in romance fantasies. Even in the original he had been cold and capable.

It was simply that his capability had always been directed toward the empire and the imperial family.

And a capable crown prince would also know that he must not enlarge the board here.

The Rosetta duchy was the sword that held the Western Front. Among them, Evelyn Rosetta was already a piece too valuable to dismiss as a mere social villainess. The genius who had manifested aura at a young age, formally recognized as the Rosetta heir—an eventual blade the imperial family would one day need to use.

I had made Evelyn Rosetta into that kind of person.

Even if Kyran found me unpleasant, he could not break me openly in this place.

What he could do was claim a suitable pretext, check on Liana’s condition, issue a warning just strong enough for everyone to accept, and then withdraw. Kyran saw Liana less as a person and more as a symbol.

A saintess.

The white banner that would stabilize the empire. And right now that banner was standing behind the empire’s Black Rose.

So even if he grew angry, he would not stop calculating.

I forced Liana’s hand free. This time she released me without resistance. In exchange, her fingers lightly brushed the inside of my wrist.

She had noticed the wound that had opened when the original story forced my hand.

“Evelyn-nim.”

Her voice dropped a little lower.

I gave a small shake of my head.

“Keep your mouth shut.”

“But—”

“Not now.”

Liana pressed her lips together.

That obedient face pretending to listen so meekly only made me more uneasy. I turned toward Kyran. The hem of my dress whispered across the floor, and the familiar weight of the thin blade hidden at the small of my back settled against my spine.

Few women entered a banquet hall carrying a sword.

But I was a Rosetta.

Setting the blade aside and playing the gentle lady would have been the stranger choice.

“Your Highness.”

I smiled.

A smile not so different from the one people expected of a villainess.

“If I was discourteous, then I will apologize.”

“You are apologizing to the wrong person.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

I flicked a glance toward Liana.

In that brief instant Kyran’s gaze moved with mine. But his eyes did not land first on Liana’s pale face—they went straight to the scorched trace remaining inside her dress.

It lasted only a fraction of a second.

Short enough that anyone else would have missed it.

But I saw it. He had checked whether the mark was gone before he checked whether Liana was hurt.

Tch. Of course.

I still did not know how much the crown prince truly understood.

One thing, however, was certain. Kyran was no accidental, kind-hearted savior who had simply wandered into this scene.

At the very least, he did not seem completely ignorant of the fact that the Temple had prepared something for Liana.

And he realized that I had noticed.

His gaze sank for the briefest moment, then returned. It was not anger so much as a recalculation of profit and loss. If he pressed me here, the matter of the mark might surface. If he withdrew without a word, the crown prince’s dignity would crack.

So—moderately.

Confirm that our blades had touched, but draw no blood.

I pressed my smile a little deeper.

“Miss Bell, I’m sorry about this. The Rosetta house will formally cover the cost of the dress.”

I made my tone deliberately cold.

Liana smiled as if she understood exactly what I intended.

“It’s all right.”

“You say ‘it’s all right’ far too easily.”

“I learned it from you, Evelyn-nim.”

For a moment I lost my words.

And Kyran did not miss the opening.

“Have the two of you known each other for some time?”

The question was quiet.

But a blade lay beneath it.

If I answered wrong, Liana would be thrust even deeper into the center of imperial and Temple attention. She was already there, but this would drive the stake further in. Before choosing my reply I looked at her.

She spoke first.

“Yes.”

“Liana.”

I called her name low.

She did not look at me.

“Evelyn-nim has been helping me for a long time.”

The banquet hall stirred again.

For a long time.

A commoner-born saintess candidate and the Rosetta lady had known each other for a long time. What better prey could the gossip-hungry nobles ask for? Their eyes glittered.

The words were practically a confession.

Liana knew.

She knew that this single sentence would place her in greater danger.

And still she said it.

As if she refused to leave me standing alone as the villainess.

As if she refused to hide.

As if this time she, too, would stand at my side.

I saw Kyran’s gaze grow colder.

But he stopped there.

He did not dig further. He could have pried into Liana’s and my past; he could have spoken the Temple’s name and overturned the atmosphere in an instant. Yet he did neither.

The crown prince was searching for a pretext to withdraw. More precisely, he was choosing a sentence that would let him step back without looking defeated.

“Interesting.”

“It is not a story grand enough to trouble Your Highness with.”

Liana remained composed.

“I simply will not make an issue of today’s incident. Therefore I would prefer that Your Highness speak of it no further.”

She smiled.

Gently.

Yet she drew a clear line.

Looking at that smile sent a chill down my spine. This was not the seventeen-year-old Liana I knew. It was the face of someone who had endured far too much and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now had nothing left to endure—someone who had already reached a kind of enlightenment.

Kyran was silent for a moment.

Then he put away his handkerchief.

“Very well. Today I shall respect Miss Bell’s wishes.”

He looked at me.

“However, Lady Rosetta. Neither the imperial family nor the Rosetta house would desire another disturbance like today’s. It would be best if both of us were a little more careful next time.”

“I as well.”

I erased my smile.

“I will make certain Your Highness has no further need to intervene.”

The air turned sharp.

Only after Kyran left did the nobles begin to breathe again. But the flow of the banquet was already broken. Music continued to play, yet every eye remained fixed on us.

I took Liana’s arm and walked quickly toward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the terrace.

“Come with me.”

“Yes.”

Liana followed far too obediently.

That only made me more suspicious.

The moment the terrace door closed I pushed her back against the wall. Not hard.

But I blocked both sides so she could not escape. Night wind stirred the wet dress. The wine-soaked fabric must have been clinging to her skin, yet Liana did not utter a single word about the cold.

That bothered me even more.

If she had trembled, cried, or blamed me, it would have been easier to understand. Instead she endured everything as though she had already weathered this situation many times before.

I asked in a low voice,

“What are you?”

Liana looked up at me.

“I am Liana Bell.”

“Don’t play games.”

My voice came out colder than I expected.

The original story had changed, and Liana was no longer acting like the heroine I knew. Perhaps that was why the rough words slipped out before I could stop them.

Liana did not flinch.

She doesn’t even get surprised, huh. So even that has changed. Still I refused to step back; I closed the distance another step.

“‘This time you saved me again’—that kind of talk. Hah. How do you know that?”

Liana parted her lips.

But no words came out.

Her throat moved faintly. It was not that she had swallowed the words. Something seemed to be choking her from within.

Her blue eyes clouded for an instant.

Then crimson letters rose before my eyes.

A single drop of blood beaded on Liana’s lips.

I reached out on pure reflex.

“Liana!”

Instead of collapsing she caught my sleeve.

“I’m all right.”

Blood traced the edge of her mouth.

“I thought I would be able to say a little more this time.”

This time.

That word again. Was there truly something I still did not know? I clenched my teeth and gripped her shoulders. Through the wet dress her body had gone cold. Yet her hands alone remained burning hot.

If—if my guess was right—

“Liana, you…”

My voice dropped.

Liana.

“You haven’t lived this world only once, have you.”

She might have known far more of the truth than I did.

Liana did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not answer my firm conviction.

Or rather, it would be more accurate to say she could not answer. Instead she smiled, very slowly. Strangely, the smile looked almost like relief.

As if she had been waiting all this time for me to finally see her.

And even in that moment, the blood on Liana’s lips did not stop flowing.