Almost Dying Again in the Rose Garden
The rose garden at night was an entirely different place from the one bathed in daylight. By day, it was where students strolled, young nobles exchanged subtle promises, and lovers stole glances away from prying eyes. But at night, even the moonlight seemed torn apart by thorns. Whenever the deep crimson roses swayed in the wind, the scent of blood from the previous night felt as if it were returning to life.
The gardens of Saint Ignis Academy were renowned for their beauty. The rose garden in particular served as a favored spot among noble students for confessions and secret meetings before duels. Red, white, and blue roses were planted in a circular pattern, with an ancient angel statue standing at the center. Tonight, however, that statue looked strangely ominous. Shadows resembling dried bloodstains clung to the tips of its wings, and under the moonlight, it was impossible to tell whether the angel's face was smiling or weeping. What should have been a romantic sculpture for lovers whispering promises now resembled a gallows awaiting judgment.
I stood at the center of the garden. More precisely, I stood in a way that made it seem as though I were alone. Rhea was positioned behind the northern fountain. Her frost magic blended with the surrounding temperature, concealing her presence. The fountain's water streams glittered like frozen glass under the moonlight, and behind it, her silver hair glowed faintly as if it were part of the night itself.
Siella hid within the shadows of the western corridor. Not even the sound of her breathing could be heard. Though she had not drawn her sword, the air in her direction felt unusually sharp. It was as if a crimson sword gleam was crouched there, ready to tear through the darkness at any moment.
Aria waited near the eastern cathedral entrance. She was preparing both healing and defensive holy arts simultaneously. A faint glow of holy power lingered over her white uniform. Even from afar, she was watching me. Her expression suggested she would rush over the moment I so much as stumbled.
I had no idea where Noel was. She was likely observing me from the most troublesome position. In her case, it felt less like she was hiding and more like the entire garden had already become her laboratory.
Is this really supposed to be an early freshman event?
I muttered inwardly. My plan was simple. If the true culprit from last night's rose garden incident—or a contact from the Black Moon—appeared again, I would capture them. If not, I would at least find some trace. Yet a part of me remained uneasy.
The voice I had heard earlier. 'One who twists the predetermined scenes.' Those words had not been a coincidence. Someone in this world had noticed that I was disrupting the established flow. Or at the very least, they knew I was altering the scheduled events.
There had been no such dialogue in the original novel I knew. In the original, Kyle Diaren had not survived this long or moved about so freely.
I slowly opened and closed my right hand. Thanks to Aria's treatment, the arm bitten by the familiar during the day could move, but a lingering echo of dark mana still remained deep within. A tingling sensation ran through the inside of my arm whenever I flexed my fingers.
Could I wield a sword properly? Probably not. Still, I could not run away. If I fled, the Black Moon would target Rhea or Aria again. And if the predetermined flow was trying to kill me, moving together with them was better than hiding alone.
I was not sure if that judgment was correct. But it was the best I could do right now.
To be honest, I was afraid. Dying was terrifying, but even more so was the thought of losing someone without knowing anything. If I had even a vague idea of the dangers ahead, I could not pretend not to know. If I turned away despite knowing, those deaths would feel like my responsibility.
That was why I stood here. With a broken body. Under the name of a villain. Not even the protagonist, yet making a clumsy resolve to protect the heroines.
"Are you nervous?"
Rhea's voice reached my ears. It was a small-scale communication spell. A temporary device Noel had set up.
"A little."
"For someone who says 'a little,' your breathing is rather quick."
"Are you calm even in a situation like this, Your Highness?"
"In the imperial palace, there are plenty who offer poison with a smile. A garden at night is rather cute by comparison."
I could not tell if it was a joke or serious. Still, it oddly put me at ease. Rhea's voice was cold but unwavering. The mere fact that she was to the north made it feel as though an ice wall had been erected at my back.
This time, Siella's voice cut in.
"If you're scared, withdraw now. I can take the bait role."
"Then the culprit won't come."
"Why?"
"By common sense, an assassin who thinks of the Bayern young lady as bait and still shows up wouldn't live long."
After a brief silence, Siella let out a low chuckle.
"That's an assessment I rather like."
Her laugh was short, but it eased the tension in my fingertips slightly.
Aria's voice was cautious.
"Lord Kyle, is your arm all right?"
"It is fine."
"If you're lying, I'll scold you during treatment."
Her tone was gentle, yet strangely sincere.
"Is it acceptable for a saintess candidate to scold a patient?"
"Only if the patient lies."
Aria's voice was quiet but firm. I nearly laughed without realizing it. There had not been many scenes in the original where Aria so openly clung to someone and nagged them. The change made me both glad and uneasy.
Noel whispered last.
"It's amusing how each of you worries about Kyle in your own way."
"I would appreciate it if you stayed quiet, Senior."
"I refuse."
As expected, she was no help.
At that moment, the wind stopped. The garden's roses bowed their heads in unison, as if an invisible hand were pressing down on their petals.
I placed my hand on the hilt of my sword.
Someone emerged from the darkness. A black cloak. A silver mask covering the face. A short staff in hand. There was no shadow beneath their feet. Though moonlight clearly illuminated them, the shadow did not touch the ground. They had a human form, yet something about them felt fundamentally wrong to call human.
It was a figure who had never appeared directly in the original novel. Yet I recognized the crescent moon emblem engraved on the mask.
Black Moon.
"Kyle Diaren."
The voice was low and dry.
"Your survival is not a variable. It is an error."
A chill ran down my spine. Error. That word was not a simple insult. They were saying I was never meant to exist in this place. Someone who should have died. A name that should have vanished. A villain who should have been erased from the story.
"Who are you?"
"A name you would not know."
"Are you affiliated with the Black Moon?"
The masked figure paused briefly.
"So you do know."
I had made a mistake. I should not have mentioned the Black Moon so easily. I gritted my teeth inwardly. But it was already too late.
The masked figure raised their staff.
"That knowledge is not yours."
Dark mana spread across the ground. The rose stems writhed like serpents. Shadows gathered on the thorns, transforming them into razor-sharp blades.
In that instant, the garden was no longer a garden. The rose stems squirmed like living tentacles, and the petals scattered like black butterflies. The garden that had been beautiful under the moonlight became a trap of blood and thorns in the blink of an eye.
Rhea moved immediately. The entire northern fountain froze over as spears of frost flew forth. The masked figure twisted to evade, but the hem of their cloak shattered from the frost.
"You even brought the princess."
Siella burst out from the shadows.
"I'm here too."
A crimson sword gleam pressed against the masked figure. They raised rose stems like a shield, but Siella's sword forced them back with sheer power. Black flames sparked with every clash between sword and thorns. Even amid those flames, Siella did not retreat. Her sword was honest. It neither hid nor turned away—it simply cut down whatever stood before it.
Aria's holy arts enveloped my body.
"Lord Kyle, fall back!"
I did not retreat. Knowledge from the original novel raced through my mind. The Black Moon's spells mostly worked by deceiving sight and disrupting the target's mana flow. They were not strong in direct confrontations, but they struck with lethal precision amid confusion.
So what were they targeting?
Rhea? As imperial blood, she made a sufficient target. Aria? A saintess candidate and the center of last night's incident.
Or me? The villain who should have died.
The masked figure laughed.
"Kyle Diaren. You probably think you've saved them. The princess, the saintess candidate, and your own life."
Their staff struck the ground. The shadow at the garden's center split open. From within rose black blades identical to the dagger from the previous night. They were not aimed at me.
They were aimed at Aria.
"Aria!"
I ran. That moment strangely seemed to stretch. I saw Aria lift her head. Saw the black blades reflected in her eyes. Saw her holy arts unfold in haste. Yet saw the curse pierce through that light.
Aria had deployed a defensive holy art, but the black blades dug through its radiance. It was the curse spell used by heretics in the original to break through holy arts.
I drew my sword. Kyle's swordsmanship was incomplete. His mana was unstable as well. Blocking head-on would break my arm. But I knew the blades' trajectory. No—I could read it. The texture of the mana informed me through pain.
I angled my sword's flat side. The first blade slid off. The second grazed my shoulder. The third clashed with the blade and veered off course.
And the fourth. The blade meant for Aria pierced my side.
Breath caught in my throat. Something tore inside my body. It was hot, cold, and heavy all at once. Before the sensation of blood leaving me came an odd sense of emptiness.
Got hurt again.
It had not been long since I told Aria I was fine. Strangely, regret came late. The first thought that surfaced was only one.
Aria—?
When I turned my head, she stood unharmed. The light of her holy arts wavered, and her face had gone deathly pale. Only after confirming that did the pain rush in.
"Lord Kyle!"
Aria's scream rang out. Rhea's frost exploded. Half the garden froze over in an instant. The roses were trapped within transparent ice, and blue frost bloomed across the angel statue. Siella's sword shattered the masked figure's staff. Noel's violet magic circle descended from the sky, blocking their escape route.
Even as the masked figure coughed up blood, they laughed.
"Yes. This is how it deviates."
Noel spoke coldly.
"What do you mean?"
"The scene from the prophecy book has been torn."
With those words, the masked figure turned to black ash and scattered. A suicide spell.
I dropped to my knees. My side burned. Blood flowed between my fingers. Aria rushed over and caught me.
"No. Don't close your eyes. Lord Kyle, look at me."
Her holy arts wrapped around the wound. But her hands were trembling. The pure white light wavered several times over the injury. Aria's breathing was unsteady.
"Lady Aria."
"Don't speak."
"Your hands are shaking."
"It's because of you, Lord Kyle."
I could not respond to that.
Rhea knelt before me. The princess, forgetting all dignity, grasped my face. Her hands were cold, yet her fingertips clearly trembled.
"Kyle, stay conscious."
"Your Highness… your hands are cold."
"Don't say unnecessary things."
It was different from her usual arrogant commands. There was a very thin crack in her voice.
Siella gritted her teeth and kept watch on the surroundings. But even the corners of her eyes wavered. She held her sword, yet her gaze kept shifting between my wound and the surrounding darkness, as if she would tear apart the culprit the moment they reappeared.
"If you die, I won't forgive you."
I tried to smile.
"Everyone… says such frightening things."
Aria spoke through tears.
"If you have the strength to say that, then please stay alive."
Noel was staring at the scattered ashes. For the first time, composure had vanished from her expression.
"A scene from the prophecy book, huh."
She muttered very softly.
"Kyle, what exactly do you know?"
I could not answer. Too much blood was flowing from the wound in my side. My vision blurred. Rhea's cold hands, Aria's warm holy arts, Siella's trembling breaths, and Noel's hardened voice all faded at once.
The last things I saw were the three faces. The crumbling gaze of the cold princess. The trembling lips of the crimson knight's daughter. The tears of the pure white saintess candidate.
And I realized. I had not changed the story to survive. The predetermined flow had already been moving to kill me.