The Princess's Gaze Turns to Me
The infirmary ceiling was blindingly white.
I stared up at it and thought, Why is the early enrollment event this brutal?
In the original story, Kyle Diaren is branded the culprit who harmed the saintess candidate and gets locked away right after the rose garden incident. The protagonist later uncovers the real culprit's traces, and with Aria's testimony, Kyle barely keeps his life.
But things are different now.
I wasn't detained. Instead, I got bitten on the arm while saving the princess, and now I'm lying in an infirmary bed.
A white curtain swayed in the breeze. Beyond the window came the faint sounds of daytime classes: swords clashing in the distance, students chanting spells, a professor's scolding. Ordinary academy noise.
Yet the space around me felt strangely quiet.
The infirmary carried a mix of incense and medicinal herbs. Silver candlesticks etched with healing runes lined the walls, and a blue magic circle rotated slowly overhead, monitoring patients' conditions. Thin curtains hung around each bed, but this section was nearly empty.
Whether because of rumors that the princess had stopped by or because the saintess candidate herself was treating someone, the assistant priests kept their distance.
The real problem was right beside the bed.
"Don't move."
Snow-white hair swayed gently.
Aria Elowen.
The saintess candidate who had collapsed covered in blood last night was now casting a healing spell on my arm. Warm light flowed from her fingertips and wrapped around the wound. The wolf's bite marks slowly closed.
The light was gentle.
But the hands guiding it trembled.
"Shouldn't you be resting instead, Lady Aria?"
"I'm fine."
"You nearly died last night."
"You nearly died today, Sir Kyle."
I had no reply.
Aria kept her head lowered, holding my wrist. Her fingers were slender and cool. The healing light was warm, yet her hands shook with quiet unease.
In the original story, Aria was known as the "Pure White Saintess"—kind, devoted, someone who extended a hand to everyone. Readers called her the healing-route heroine.
But the girl before me now was more than just a kind saintess candidate.
She was afraid.
Afraid that the person who saved her would get hurt again. Afraid because she had been unable to do anything.
"Why are you doing this?"
"When I woke up, everyone was talking about you, Sir Kyle."
"Bad things, I assume."
"At first, yes."
Aria gave a quiet laugh—too faint to truly be called one.
"But I remember. Last night, you held my hand. When I told you not to run, you said you wouldn't."
That had been nothing more than a survival tactic.
I couldn't say that out loud.
"Anyone would have done the same."
"No."
Aria lifted her head.
Her violet-tinged blue eyes met mine. I finally understood why readers had called her the Pure White Saintess. Clear and serene, yet holding an ember that refused to die out.
"Not just anyone would. When I was lying there, everyone looked at me and still suspected you. But you took my hand."
"That was…"
"So I've decided to believe."
"Believe what?"
"That you're not a bad person."
Her words carried weight.
The original Kyle had done terrible things. Even if I wasn't that person, the sins attached to this body's name didn't simply vanish.
I looked away.
"Trusting so easily is dangerous."
Aria's fingers tightened around my wrist.
"Then make sure you don't become dangerous, Sir Kyle."
"Pardon?"
"Become someone it's safe for me to believe in."
The infirmary fell silent.
It sounded like a pure request, yet felt like an inescapable shackle.
She wasn't trying to bind me. She was simply saying she wanted to believe.
And that belief terrified me.
Getting involved with the heroines of the original story meant death. At least, that was how the story was meant to steer me. But with her holding my wrist like this, I couldn't coldly push her away.
This is bad.
It wasn't just the incidents I needed to avoid. It was the heroines' emotional routes. If the trust, affection, obsession, and desire to save that should have gone to the protagonist began flowing toward me instead, the story would twist even further.
And a twisted story would try to kill me.
Just then, the door opened.
"Is the treatment finished?"
Rhea Silverrian stepped inside.
The moment the princess entered, the assistant priests bowed their heads in unison. Rhea passed them without a glance and stopped beside my bed. Her gaze first landed on my arm, then on Aria's hand still holding mine.
Aria seemed to feel the look, yet didn't let go.
Instead, she gripped a little tighter.
I instinctively sensed danger.
Rhea spoke.
"Was the wound severe enough to require the saintess candidate's personal treatment?"
Aria answered softly.
"The familiar's fangs carried dark mana. Ordinary healing might have left a scar."
"I see."
Rhea's voice was calm.
Yet the room temperature seemed to drop.
"If the treatment is done, you can let go of his hand now, can't you?"
Aria smiled.
"He still needs to stabilize."
"That seems more like the bed's job than the saintess candidate's hand."
I wanted to close my eyes.
Why were these two having a staring contest here? In the early parts of the original story, Rhea and Aria never clashed this sharply. They had slowly opened their hearts to the protagonist and come to acknowledge each other.
Now I was the one lying in bed while they quietly fought over my hand.
I'm screwed.
Aria spoke quietly.
"Did you come to thank Sir Kyle as well, Your Highness?"
"Of course. He saved my life."
"Then may I offer my thanks first? I survived last night thanks to him. And now I can personally testify that he never intended to harm me."
"Does order matter?"
"Sometimes it does."
Aria's smile remained gentle, yet somehow chilling.
Rhea's eyes narrowed slightly.
At that moment, another voice cut in.
"Both of you, stop. The patient looks like he's suffocating."
Siella Bayern stood in the doorway.
Her arms were crossed, her expression displeased—though it was unclear at whom. Her red hair still carried the heat of the training grounds, slightly tousled, and her fingers rested loosely on the hilt of her sword.
"Kyle Diaren."
"Yes."
"Can you move your arm?"
"More or less."
"Then come to the training grounds tomorrow."
"Why?"
"I need to confirm whether your command yesterday was a fluke."
"Isn't that a bit much for a patient?"
"You're alive, so it's fine."
This woman was no pushover either.
Aria immediately jumped in.
"Overexertion is not allowed. The wound has only just closed."
Siella looked at Aria.
"Are you saying the saintess candidate's treatment isn't perfect?"
"I'm saying that even perfect treatment requires rest."
Rhea added,
"Kyle has an appointment with the imperial investigators this afternoon. He won't have time for the training grounds."
Siella's eyebrow rose.
"Are you deciding his schedule now, Your Highness?"
"At the very least, I have the right to verify matters as the target of the assassination attempt."
"Then as his combat training teammate, I suppose I have the right to verify as well."
Still holding my hand, Aria spoke.
"And as his healer, I have the right to make him rest."
Three pairs of eyes turned to me at once.
My opinion?
Didn't exist.
In the strange silence, I was reminded once again that I was merely a patient lying in an infirmary bed. Yet the atmosphere had shifted from concern over my recovery to a debate over who had the right to stand at my side.
The original Kyle might have enjoyed this situation. He would have smirked arrogantly, convinced that three beautiful girls were fighting over him.
But I couldn't laugh.
This wasn't a favorability event.
It was the sound of death flags multiplying.
Just then, the infirmary door opened once more.
This time, a black-haired woman entered. Violet eyes, a loosely draped magic department cloak, and a leisurely smile on her lips.
Noel Ignis.
Top-ranked senior of the magic department and a dangerous ally from the middle arcs of the original story.
She took in the room's atmosphere and chuckled as if amused.
"Well, well. I came to visit one freshman and found the princess, the Bayern heiress, and the saintess candidate all gathered here."
I groaned inwardly.
Why is she here already too?
Noel approached my bed and leaned down. Her violet eyes studied me from up close.
"Kyle Diaren. You've survived far too much from last night until today."
Her tone was light, but the meaning was sharp.
I didn't smile.
"I tried to stay alive."
"But you know,"
Noel lowered her voice.
"People can't avoid dangers they don't know about. Yet you're avoiding dangers you shouldn't even be aware of."
My heart sank quietly.
Rhea looked at me. Siella looked at me. Aria gripped my hand tighter.
Noel smiled.
"How interesting. Just what exactly do you know?"
The white infirmary ceiling suddenly felt like the ceiling of a prison cell.
I had survived.
But quietly disappearing was no longer an option.