Chapter 13: The Protagonist’s Course Correction!

“No… It can’t be…”

The color drained from Ewan’s face.

Panic overriding all other thoughts, he whipped out the black book and frantically reviewed every single event that had transpired since yesterday, his eyes scanning the text with feverish intensity.

“It has to be! The only variable, the only thing that could have possibly derailed this Rube Goldberg machine of a plan, is that maid, Noelle!”

“In the original novel, she would never have been given time off. The original Ewan Campbell wasn’t exactly a benevolent, forgiving employer!”

“In fact, he probably would have disciplined her so harshly that her illness would have worsened, leading directly to her ‘clumsy’ accident at the banquet!”

“In other words,” he whispered in horror, “my single, solitary act of basic human decency… has completely shattered the main storyline?”

Clutching the black book as if it were a life raft, Ewan collapsed onto the sofa, the strength leaving his limbs.

“Then what was the point of all this? Of anything?!”

Celicia slept on, the very picture of a fairy-tale princess awaiting her prince’s true love’s kiss. But looking at her now, Ewan only felt the universe laughing at him with deep, biting irony. A princess whose prince never shows up is just a sleeping beauty trapped in a tower, her story destined to end not with a “happily ever after,” but with a “…”

If he couldn’t orchestrate his own perfect ruin, the fate awaiting him would be infinitely worse than the one in the book. It would be the one from his dream. The words “Do not change” echoed in his skull, a terrifying mantra followed by the chilling sensation of a thousand phantom blades.

He couldn’t believe it. His meticulously crafted plan, his ticket to a peaceful life, had been utterly annihilated by one small, insignificant butterfly flap of kindness. This was the legendary, overpowered Mary Sue of the story! Was her anti-NTR armor really this flimsy?

“No, wait. It’s not over yet! Don’t panic!”

“This is the protagonist we’re talking about! The woman whose sense of direction is so bad she can get lost in a straight hallway, yet still somehow, out of hundreds of rooms in this damn mansion, stumble into the exact right one!”

“She is the chosen one! The child of destiny! Even if the timeline has wobbled a bit, her ridiculously powerful plot armor should kick in and yank it back on track!”

“Now is not the time to give up!”

A fierce, desperate light reignited in Ewan’s eyes. The embers of hope in his chest, which had been all but extinguished, roared back to life. Things looked apocalyptic, but it wasn’t checkmate just yet. He had to have faith in the protagonist. He had to believe in her destiny! Because in any sane yuri power-fantasy novel, unless the author had suffered a catastrophic brain injury, they would never write a disgusting plotline where the heroine gets NTR’d by a disposable blond villain! The hero was probably just biding her time, waiting for the most dramatic possible moment to make her grand entrance. It was all for the thrill! Just like one of my anime!

Therefore, until Celicia’s eyes actually opened, the game was still on!

That’s right! Before she woke up!

“Ngh…” A soft, delicate moan echoed in the silent room.

“…” No. It can’t be.

Already?

I’m just hearing things! Stress-induced auditory hallucination! That’s it!

“So… hot…”

“…” It was not an auditory hallucination.

It was over.

The light of hope flickered and died.

The fire of determination was snuffed out.

An arctic cold, far colder than any of Celicia’s magic, seeped into Ewan’s very bones.

He turned his head with the creaking slowness of a rusty automaton. Just as he feared, Celicia was frowning, her slender body twisting uncomfortably on the sofa. She was in distress, but more importantly, she looked like she could regain consciousness at any second.

“This is really, truly, the end.”

“The first thing she’ll do when she wakes up is turn me into a modern art installation made of ice and regret.”

“I don’t even need to wait for my ruinous ending. My life is going to end right here, right now.”

“Waaaah…”

Completely and utterly despondent, Ewan faced the still-closed door, two lines of hot, desperate tears of betrayal streaming down his face.

“Lady Ariel! My lady protagonist! My savior! What in the seven hells are you doing out there?! Get in here and save me, damn it!”

…

“That clumsy Lilia. How could she be so careless as to get cake all over my dress?”

At this very moment, our protagonist, the sole object of Ewan’s frantic hopes, was wandering the labyrinthine corridors of the ducal estate like a headless chicken, holding up the hem of her skirt. A distinct, creamy smudge was visible on the fine fabric—the result of Lilia’s earlier, cake-related mishap.

Ariel was now on a desperate quest to find a washroom, having not anticipated that the mansion would be so complex, nor that her own sense of direction was, on a cosmic level, absolutely terrible.

And so, unsurprisingly, she was lost.

But perhaps guided by the invisible hand of fate, or maybe just her overpowered protagonist-grade luck, Ariel was now only a single corner away from the very room where Ewan was having his existential breakdown. It was entirely conceivable that if she continued her aimless wandering, she would, in a few minutes or even less, coincidentally push open the one door that mattered most in the world.

But this time, destiny, through a series of karmic twists, had decided to take a detour.

“Who’s there?! Show yourself!”

Ariel’s head snapped up, her eyes glinting sharply as she glared into the shadows of the upcoming corner.

Tap.

A single, crisp footstep echoed from the darkness.

A figure in a black and white dress emerged.

It was a maid.

“My apologies, honored guest, but this area of the ducal estate is off-limits.” The maid curtsied gracefully. “I must ask you to turn back.”

“Off-limits?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Ariel couldn’t help but frown. “What kind of restricted area?”

“That is a ducal secret, I’m afraid. I am not at liberty to say.”

“Tch. Stingy,” Ariel clicked her tongue, feigning indifference while her dark eyes darted about, clearly hatching some new, mischievous plan.

“Honored guest, it appears your dress is stained.”

Just then, the maid knelt before Ariel. She lifted the hem of the skirt, and a faint, fluorescent light glowed at her fingertips.

“Cleanse.”

The light flashed, and the cake stain vanished without a trace.

“Wow, that’s incredible,” Ariel blinked in surprise. “All the maids in this mansion can use magic?”

“I only know a little. It is nothing worth mentioning,” the maid replied with a humble smile. “In a short while, the kitchen will be serving a limited quantity of Pacici Cake. If you enjoy it, I highly recommend you do not miss out.”

“Pacici Cake!”

Ariel’s eyes lit up like twin supernovas. That was her absolute, all-time favorite cake! It was criminally expensive, and only a handful of chefs in the entire country knew how to make it. She rarely ever got to eat it.

“Thank you so much for your help!” Ariel bowed a full, enthusiastic ninety degrees to the maid, then turned on her heel and sprinted away, her long skirts doing nothing to impede her speed. If a place like this only had a limited supply, she would absolutely miss out if she was late!

…

After running for some distance, Ariel suddenly began to speak, seemingly to the empty air.

“I know that maid was suspicious.”

“A ‘restricted area’? She was totally lying.”

“She smelled faintly of blood, and I’m sure someone else was hiding nearby.”

“But—that has absolutely nothing to do with me!”

“Whatever shady business she’s up to, it’s happening here. It’s not my problem.”

“Go find Princess Celicia? Please, she’s a big girl. It’s not like she’s going to get kidnapped.”

“There is nothing, nothing, in this world more important than my Pacici Cake!”

“My dearest Pacici, I’m coming for you!”