I had trained in the forest.
I had faced pain, exhaustion, even a hobgoblin trying to cave in my skull.
But never—not even once—had I felt this kind of pressure.
I sat stiffly on the royal couch, eyes locked on the two people seated across from me:
Duke Zuel Silva, radiating noble intimidation in his sharp black coat…
…and his daughter, Seraphina, who sat with her arms folded, chin tilted proudly, smug like she'd just won a war I didn't know I was part of.
What… is this situation?
---
The Night Before
It all started the night before, during dinner.
Father—King Lunstein Albrecht von Airillesta—cleared his throat mid-meal and said, calmly:
> "Alein. Come to my office tomorrow morning. We have something to discuss."
His tone was casual, but the way he sipped his wine felt final.
Like a noble executioner wiping his blade.
I didn't think much of it. Maybe another lecture about sword etiquette or behaving like a proper prince.
---
The Meeting
The next morning, I walked into his office—without bandages on my hands, for once.
Father was alone, seated calmly on the couch, a pot of tea steaming on the table between us.
He nodded to the seat beside him.
> "Sit, Alein."
I sat.
He poured me tea.
Then the door knocked.
> KNOCK. KNOCK.
> "Come in," Father said.
And that's when the ambush began.
In walked Duke Zuel Silva, looking like a royal blade in human form, and Seraphina Elise von Silva, graceful and terrifying, walking behind him like fire itself.
They both sat down across from us, all noble and dignified. But Seraphina…
She smirked at me.
That was my first warning sign.
---
> "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Your Majesty," said Duke Zuel politely.
> "Let us speak frankly," Father replied. "I believe we've both observed something... promising."
I tilted my head. "Something… what now?"
Father turned to me with a faint, almost proud smile.
> "Alein. The Silva family has expressed interest in an engagement."
> "Whose engagement?" me in surprised in inside my mind still make it normal face
> "Yours." my father says
…
…
> "Pardon?!"
---
My brain lagged.
Seraphina just stared, sipping tea like this was a normal Tuesday.
Duke Zuel folded his hands. "Your son has been… unusually close to my daughter these days."
> "Close?! We only met in the woods—because she followed me!"
> "Indeed. And she also survived a hobgoblin encounter, thanks to your presence."
Seraphina finally set her teacup down, narrowing her eyes at me.
> "You swung a sword at my chest."
> "THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"
> "You saw my embarrassed face."
> "IT WAS DARK!"
> "You trained me. You inspired me. You saved me."
> "—Okay that part is true but still—!"
> "So take responsibility," she said firmly.
I choked on my tea.
> "I feel like I'm being blackmailed into marriage…"
My father raised a brow. "You've always claimed you were underestimated. Are you telling me now you're not good enough to marry a Duke's daughter?"
> "That's not fair! That's reverse mind psychology!" my mind is blowing with the situation but out still keep up
> "It's called politics, son."
---
I turned to Seraphina. Her face was composed, but her ears were slightly red.
> "You don't have to do this, you know," I muttered.
She looked at me—and for a moment, her expression softened.
> "I know. But I want to."
> "Why?"
> "Because… if I'm going to be forced into noble games… I'd rather play them with someone who chose me first."
…
I blinked.
Okay, that one hit harder than I expected.
---
And so, just like that…
Without my input, my negotiation, or my mental preparation—
> I was officially engaged to the villainess of the game.
And I had no idea how much chaos that would cause at the academy later.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep.
The moonlight filtered through the balcony curtains, silver and still. The castle was silent. But inside my mind, everything was loud.
> "You're now engaged to Lady Seraphina Silva."
The words echoed again and again. I thought I'd feel frustrated, trapped even—but instead…
> "So take responsibility."
Her voice lingered too.
> "Did I really change her fate?"
The villainess route was supposed to be tragic.
Her childhood friend, unnamed in the game, died at 15—that death was her emotional turning point, pushing her into darkness, into becoming the final boss of the school arc.
Now…
Now, I'm the childhood friend.
> "So… it was supposed to be me who died?"
I sat up, staring at my hands.
Hands that were healing faster than they should.
Hands that had already swung a wooden sword against monsters.
Hands that changed something, even slightly.
But how long could I stay ahead of fate?
---
The Next Morning
Something shifted in me.
When Seraphina arrived at the forest clearing—dressed in her usual noble practice attire, tied hair, and glare—I was already mid-lap.
> "You're early?" she blinked.
> "Nah," I said with a grin. "You're just late."
I doubled the routine that day.
10 kilometers.
100 push-ups.
50 squats.
100 sword swings.
She tried to keep up, breathless but stubborn. I didn't let her slack.
We sparred under the trees—wooden swords clashing under the sunlight breaking through the leaves.
At a glance, it may have looked like battle.
But to anyone watching…
It looked like a dance.
---
One of those watchers was Prince Hyarus Roenhardt von Lunstein—my third brother.
I saw him once through the trees, standing behind a bush, his jaw tight, fists clenched.
He always looked down on me. But now…
He looked jealous.
---
Sword in Motion, Heart in Sync
Seraphina's technique improved fast.
I taught her the stances from my kendo past—fluid, reactive, focused on footwork and counters. Her strikes were fiery and aggressive. Mine were cold and precise.
> "Again," she'd say, even when her arms trembled.
> "You're pushing too much from your wrist."
> "Tch… Then show me again."
And I would.
Over and over. Until her form mirrored mine, until she could predict my swing, counter my feints. Until her sword danced, not just burned.
And somewhere in between sweat, bruises, and insults…
We got closer.
> "You're not like the nobles," she once said, catching her breath.
> "That's a compliment, right?"
> "You're weird. Rough. Undignified."
> "Thanks for the triple insult."
> "…But you're honest."
That shut me up more than I expected.
---
But fate wasn't going to stay still for long.
On the last day of the week, as I wiped sweat from my brow after another spar, I saw a figure standing at the edge of the clearing.
Hyarus.
Arms crossed, face unreadable.
> "You," he called.
> "Let's see what makes you so special."
"I challenge you… to a duel."
---