A Perilous Awakening and a Desperate Gambit

Consciousness clawed its way upwards from the frigid depths of a dark sea, piercing through viscous shadows and a deluge of fragmented memories—

The Crown Prince’s chilling pronouncement, the cacophony of jeering nobles, the searing agony as Livia’s crest power tore through him… all culminating in the icy instant his heart was pierced.

“Ugh!”

Allen, his ears still ringing, abruptly opened his eyes, only to be blinded by a searing beam of light across his face.

He squinted, slowly adjusting to the dim, jaundiced light that assaulted his vision.

‘Where am I?’

He turned his stiff neck, his gaze sweeping across the surroundings. The room was remarkably spacious, yet its age was undeniable. Faded wallpaper peeled slightly at the edges, and in one corner stood a cumbersome, dark wooden wardrobe, adorned with intricate but somewhat antiquated carvings.

The lingering light of the setting sun, filtering through an arched window set with cheap stained glass, barely illuminated the motes of dust dancing in the air. Beneath him, a feather mattress, so soft he sank into it, was covered by a thick yet somewhat faded brocade quilt.

This environment, both familiar and unsettlingly strange, instantly triggered fragmented memories belonging to the “original owner” deep within Allen’s mind.

This was his “home” in this world: the Laval Viscountcy, specifically, his own bedroom.

‘Wait?’

‘Why am I home?’

‘Shouldn’t I be starting a new playthrough at St. Nora’s Crest Academy?’

‘What is the current timeline?!’

Panic, like an icy vine, instantly coiled around Allen’s heart.

He had no reincarnation protection. If he died ambushed at a respawn point, he’d have nowhere to cry!

In his previous playthroughs at the Academy, he could at least rely on experience to navigate the initial crises. But now, with this new starting point, he didn’t even know who his enemies were!

Just then, a faint rustling sound emanated from a corner of the room.

A slender figure, clad in a simple black and white maid’s uniform, stood with her back to him, meticulously polishing a brass candelabra on a tall cabinet.

The setting sun outlined her somewhat delicate silhouette, making her appear fragile and helpless.

Having died countless times, Allen had long since recognized the profound malice this world harbored for him.

The original owner’s imperious, cruel, and ungrateful demeanor was nothing short of a walking death warrant.

To survive, he had to change! It had to start with how he treated everyone, especially this seemingly harmless maid before him.

“Uh… excuse me…”

Allen attempted to speak, his voice raspy as sandpaper, but he strained to make his tone exceptionally gentle, even laced with a hint of cautious inquiry.

Upon hearing his voice, the maid’s body stiffened abruptly, as if a pause button had been pressed. The hand polishing the candelabra visibly trembled, causing the brass object to clink softly against the wooden surface.

She turned, hesitantly.

Allen saw her face clearly. She was young, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, with delicate features and fair skin that, at present, was almost translucent. A few strands of damp black hair clung to her temples.

What truly sent a shiver down his spine, however, were her crimson eyes, which momentarily flashed with a dangerous glint.

The maid stared fixedly at him, her voice tinged with confusion.

“Why are you still alive?”

There was no deference, no fear, only a chilling interrogation and undisguised wariness.

Her body was taut, her fingers unconsciously curling. Her defensive posture bore no resemblance to that of a docile, amiable maid; she was clearly an assassin poised to deliver a killing blow at any moment!

Allen had no doubt that if he displayed even a hint of the original owner’s customary brutality, he would instantly be subjected to a pillow smothering or a candelabra bludgeoning.

A faint ache began in his stomach as Allen recognized her.

Marianne Durand.

His personal maid.

One of the capture targets in “Starlight Romance.”

Livia von Stern, the formidable heroine, had lost her years ago, yet Marianne remained her unforgettable childhood friend.

And… a secret member of the Scarlet Spiral Cult, worshipping an evil god and bearing a counterfeit crest!

If Livia’s killings of Allen were often cloaked in a thin veil of “righteous execution,” then Marianne’s memories for Allen were nothing but grotesque and bloody scenes, smeared with mosaic censorship.

‘Why is she still by my side?’

Allen began to recall Marianne’s background in the original story.

Marianne was Livia’s childhood friend, and they had promised to always stay together, even after growing up.

However, Livia was later reunited with her father, and the two friends were forcibly separated. To support her ailing mother and younger brothers, Marianne ventured alone to the bustling yet indifferent Royal Capital to make a living. What awaited her there, however, was the demon that was the original Allen de Laval.

The original owner’s relentless bullying, the despair of a hopeless reunion with Livia, and the crushing burden of her family’s impoverished life finally broke Marianne. Her heart twisted and blackened in the darkness; to gain the power for revenge, she joined the Scarlet Spiral Cult.

In Marianne’s route within “Starlight Romance,” she infiltrated the Academy as Allen’s maid, serving as an informant for the Scarlet Spiral Cult. When Livia pursued cultists within the Academy, she found herself battling Marianne, who was ravaged by the power of the counterfeit crest and teetering on the brink of madness.

At the height of their fierce battle, Marianne’s profound longing for Livia and their unfulfilled promises miraculously triumphed over the resentment and the crest’s control. Weeping, she pleaded with Livia to kill her, to end her suffering.

Livia was reunited with the most cherished friend of her childhood, only for them to find themselves enemies.

Overwhelmed by immense guilt and sorrow, Livia desperately fled with Marianne, becoming a wanted criminal of both the Church and the Kingdom.

However, the crest’s erosion of life was irreversible, leaving Marianne with less than a year to live. Thus, the two embarked on a grand yet desperate journey of escape, facing the sun as they visited every landscape they had once promised to see together.

Finally, cradled in Livia’s arms, Marianne closed her eyes forever, a faint, relieved smile gracing her lips.

This tear-jerking storyline was hailed as a divine chapter by many players. Yet, every time Allen recalled it, a chill ran down his spine—because in this route, and countless other Marianne-related Bad Endings, he, Allen de Laval, was invariably betrayed and killed by Marianne in various bizarre and agonizing ways, becoming a “sacrifice” offered to her evil god!

Allen could understand Marianne’s boundless hatred for the “original owner.” While those monstrous deeds weren’t his, he couldn’t very well tell Marianne:

“That scoundrel you hate drowned, and now someone else is in his shell. I’m truly sorry for the past! But let’s separate the issues; please spare the current me!”

He knew that no matter what he did, he would not be forgiven.

Marianne’s hatred had long since permeated her very bones, tempered by the cult’s doctrines and her twisted heart into something even colder and purer.

Given that Marianne was still here, serving (or rather, monitoring) his freshly “reawakened” self as his personal maid,

the current timeline must be long before his official enrollment at St. Nora’s Crest Academy!

In his previous playthrough, he had chosen to lie low, avoiding contact with all major characters, clinging to the academy’s periphery like a ghost. Yet, he was still ultimately dispatched by the Crown Prince and Livia at the graduation banquet. This was likely not a flaw in his plan, but rather the malevolent convergence of the world-line itself!

He, Allen de Laval, was destined to be nothing more than a cannon fodder villain, a sacrificial lamb in the narrative of “Starlight Romance”!

But this time… he had actually started a new playthrough at “home,” even before the main plot began?

‘A daring thought, like a bolt of lightning, cleaved through the fog in his mind: ‘Has the world-line shifted?’

‘A much earlier start means… more room to maneuver? For instance, perhaps he could find a way—not to enroll! To completely avoid St. Nora’s Crest Academy, to avoid Livia von Stern, to bypass all the damned death flags of the Academy Arc!’

In past failed playthroughs, he had not been without attempts to escape the Royal Capital. Yet, each time he tried to deviate from the plot’s predetermined “stage,” he would encounter bizarre and inexplicable “accidental” deaths, as if an invisible hand were forcibly pushing him back onto the “right track.”

But now, this beginning at “home” was itself an unprecedented “bug”! Could this be… a sign that the world’s rules were loosening? An opportunity to break the cycle of death?

Allen’s heart pounded with this exhilarating possibility. An opportunity! This was undoubtedly his sole chance to break the cycle, earned through countless deaths! He would seize this beginning, clear the game without a single death, a perfect run!

And the first step to breaking the cycle lay with the black-haired, crimson-eyed maid before him, who held his life and death in her hands—Marianne Durand.

He needed to immediately, instantly, and as much as possible, defuse her murderous intent! But how?

Fragmented memories of the original owner surged forth:

A dazzling, sunlit afternoon picnic. Once again, the original Allen had, without provocation, hurled insults at Marianne, who quietly followed behind him. He then disdainfully ordered her to clean up the scattered picnic items, while he himself sauntered towards the shimmering lake.

He had left his unguarded back to the girl he had tormented and scarred. In that moment, the long-simmering resentment, humiliation, and despair finally breached the dam of Marianne’s reason. She reached out, imbued with all her accumulated strength and curses, and pushed the villainous young master into the deep water…

What happened after the drowning, Allen had no recollection of. He only knew that when the original owner awoke again, his core had been replaced by this unlucky transmigrator.

“Did you save me?” Allen decided to play dumb, striving to infuse his pale face with a hue of gratitude, his voice softer than ever. “Thank you.”

It was the safest opening he could conceive of in that moment.

“Thank you?”

The confusion in Marianne’s crimson eyes instantly vanished, replaced by an icy chill and the clear understanding of his pretense.

She watched Allen, a faint curve playing on her lips, as if mocking his clumsy performance.

“I didn’t save you,” Marianne stated, her tone frighteningly calm, as if relaying an objective fact that held no personal stake. “I pushed you into the water, intending to drown you.”

She paused, her crimson pupils locking onto Allen’s eyes, observing his slightest reactions. “You don’t need to thank me. You were simply lucky, struggling desperately in the water until someone pulled you out. So, what exactly do you intend to do now with this… ‘gentle’ demeanor and your false apology? Do you wish to call the guards and have me, a perpetrator of attempted murder, arrested? Or perhaps you’d prefer to push me into the fountain and freeze me again? Please, feel free.”

Cold sweat instantly drenched Allen’s back.

‘I’m utterly screwed!’

He knew Marianne despised him to the bone, but he hadn’t anticipated her hatred and vigilance had reached such an extreme!

Not only did she candidly admit her murderous intent, but she also scoffed at his deliberately displayed “change,” viewing it as a new form of torment. This was no longer mere resentment; this was… the defiant recklessness and condescending scrutiny of someone who had fully succumbed to darkness!

‘This is bad!’

Allen had initially clung to a sliver of hope that “Marianne might not have fully joined the cult yet.” But now, her cold, numb gaze, her serene acceptance of the accusation, her implied indifference of “do what you will with me”…

All pointed to a more terrifying truth: she had very likely already made contact with, or even joined, the Scarlet Spiral Cult!

Her utter disdain for the master she once vehemently resented indicated that she had inwardly affirmed her possession of some power or escape route, no longer fearing Allen’s retaliation.

In other words… Allen might very well die before even leaving the beginner’s village, failing before he could even start!

Allen’s mind raced at an unprecedented speed.

Having just awakened, his body was as weak as cotton, and he was unarmed, far from the combat prowess he possessed after three years of arduous training at the Academy in his previous playthrough. To openly confront Marianne, who was in such a bizarre state and seemingly possessed counterfeit crest power? The success rate was infinitesimally close to zero, and the death rate was a staggering two hundred percent!

Since force was out of the question, and his feigned “gentleness” had been exposed… only one path remained—severance!

Allen took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the tremor in his body and the churning in his stomach. Meeting Marianne’s cold, scrutinizing gaze, he spoke with clarity, his tone a mixture of weary resignation and “frankness”:

“Marianne Durand, you’re fired.”

“…”

The air instantly solidified.

For the first time, the cold mockery on Marianne’s face fractured, replaced by sheer astonishment.

“What did you say?”

Her crimson eyes widened slightly, and her voice finally carried a genuine tremor.

Allen ignored her shock and continued speaking, his pace steady, as if stating a perfectly normal business decision:

“Don’t be surprised. I haven’t lost my memory. I haven’t forgotten the cruel abuses I inflicted upon you.”

He paused, observing Marianne’s reaction. Her brows furrowed, her confusion deepening, yet the icy murderous intent seemed to have frozen.

“However,” Allen continued, shifting his tone with a nearly ruthless “pragmatism,” “ultimately, my father hired you, paid your wages, and never once withheld your salary, did he? You suffered greatly, but that pay did indeed support your ailing mother and young brothers, didn’t it?”

He had precisely struck the softest, most indispensable part of Marianne’s heart—her family.

Marianne’s eyes flickered violently, her body imperceptibly tensing further.

“As the Royal Capital’s most notorious scoundrel, I am well aware of myself,” Allen admitted frankly, a hint of self-mockery in his voice. “I don’t expect you to forgive me; it’s likely impossible even in the next life. However…”

He looked up, meeting Marianne’s eyes directly, his demeanor sincere as he said, “I am… tired of it now. Tired of these boring bullying games. And you, clearly, have also had enough of me, even to the point of attempted murder.”

“So, let’s part ways here.” Allen spread his hands, the movement pulling at his weakened body and prompting two coughs, yet his tone remained steady. “Since you no longer wish to see me, nor to serve me as your ‘master,’ I will grant you this opportunity. From this moment, your service as a maid is officially concluded. As compensation for your past… well, ’emotional damages,’ you may take two extra years’ worth of wages as severance. I will personally discuss this with the old butler to ensure the money reaches you. This sum, I believe, should not be insignificant, correct? Enough to provide your family with stability for a while, and even help your brothers find decent apprenticeship opportunities.”

Silence descended upon the room. Only the occasional bird chirped outside the window.

Marianne stared intently at Allen, her crimson eyes swirling with incredibly complex emotions: shock, suspicion, wariness, a flicker of vulnerability where he had struck a nerve, and an even deeper confusion.

She seemed to be desperately analyzing the true intent behind Allen’s words. Was it a new game of torment? Or… was it real?

Allen sensed her wavering and decided to add one last spark, his only remaining “chip” at this moment:

“Of course, perhaps you feel that money can never compensate for the harm I inflicted upon you. Perhaps you still want to kill me. Honestly…” Allen forced a weary, almost ethereal smile. “I don’t really care. If you wish to kill me, you can do so now. However, Marianne, consider the consequences carefully. Kill me, the sole heir of the Laval family, and you will be irrevocably branded a murderer of your master. You will instantly become a high-ranking wanted criminal of the Kingdom. What then of your family? Where could they possibly flee with you?”

Allen’s “threat” was like a sharp thorn, precisely piercing Marianne’s deepest fears.

The murderous intent and coldness in her eyes, like thin ice encountering scorching sunlight, rapidly melted and receded before his very gaze, replaced by a profound bewilderment.

Her tightly clenched fingers had, at some point, relaxed.

After what felt like an eternity, Marianne slowly spoke, her voice less icy, imbued with an indescribable complexity:

“Young Master…”

She seemed to want to say something, but ultimately swallowed her words.

She averted her gaze, no longer looking at Allen’s face, which she both hated and found utterly perplexing, letting her eyes rest on the faded wallpaper.

“I think your mind has probably been waterlogged for too long, and you’re still not quite clear-headed,” she murmured, her tone regaining a semblance of a maid’s formality, yet devoid of its former murderous intent. “However, since you’re awake, my ‘work’ must begin.”

She turned briskly, without a hint of hesitation, and walked straight to the door.

“I will go inform Viscount Laval of your ‘resurrection’ at once.”

With that, the door softly closed, leaving Allen alone on the large, soft bed, facing the deepening twilight outside the window.

‘Did the negotiation… succeed?’ Allen wasn’t sure.

Marianne’s final attitude remained ambiguous, but at least he had safely navigated the initial crisis for now.

He let out a long, silent breath, his back already drenched in cold sweat. Just a few exchanged words felt more exhausting than fighting his way through the Knight Order in his previous playthrough.

However, before he could relax his taut nerves, a more immediate and pressing question surfaced in his mind:

What should he do next to deal with Viscount Bernard de Laval, his “doting” father who was also leading the Laval family to ruin?

A new challenge, or rather, a new death flag, was already waiting at the door.