𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓

TWENTY.

comment, it will really boost my motivation ^^

"What is she up to now?"

"As expected. The child unwanted of Count Aragon."

"I heard she stirred a lot of trouble for Lord Livio, really the nerve!"

Y/n sneaked a peek at Aristidis. Some part of him couldn't help but wonder if he would be silently gloating in all these harsh words against Angelina, but he seemed more annoyed at the sudden crowd closing in on them. He still seemed to be especially angry; Y/n knew long enough and had been in enough sticky situations to know that his anger meant a smoother, softened voice—that it meant narrowed eyes, that it meant a disbelieving, sardonic smile.

"Don't listen to them," was all Y/n could offer, "they are speaking nonsense. It wouldn't do you any good to pay them any heed."

Yet Y/n knew. This was the moment where Angelina's mental state had taken the biggest hit. To hear her biggest insecurity flowing off people who were essentially strangers to her was a lot to bear.

"It's not rumors, though.." Angelina swallowed, "I'm sorry, Brother. I'm sorry, your Highness."

Aristidis seemed to glance at Y/n, then at their intertwined hands. Y/n squeezed it in reassurance, hoping nothing would go wrong—

"What's going on here?"

That voice was grating Y/n's nerves. He whirled around, eyes widening and lips pressing into a thin line—Elliot. That busybody.

[You have unsuccessfully disrupted the event. Failure will to a bad ending, as penalty,]

How could he have forgotten? There was a fucking event happening, and Elliot would ruin everything for him.

Well, Y/n didn't fucking care.

"Elliot? Since when—"

Elliot pointed the tip of the sword (seriously, did he lug that about with him wherever he went?) at Aristidis—drawing murmurs and glances from the crowd.

"Do you not feel shame at hurting a young maiden's pride?"

These are the exact same words as the game.

"If I remember," Aristidis murmured, unperturbed, "she was the one who started it. I was merely talking with Livio."

"Aristidis," Y/n whispered harshly, "I think—"

"Talking? Then why did she seem so distressed?"

"Perhaps it's because she called me a murderer first. I assume you would take offense at that word too, don't you think?" Aristidis stayed unrelenting even as the blade pressed against his neck. He was almost nonchalant about it, as it was a small matter.

The tension in the air was palpable as Elliot held the sword to Aristidis, their confrontation mirroring a scene from the game that Y/n was all too familiar with. The familiarity of the words and actions added a surreal layer to the situation

"But is it not the truth?"

"Perhaps," Aristidis whispered, his hands running down the blade, testing the sharpness, "but your blade is much too blunt to kill. Of course, I have experience," He flashed Elliot a terrifying smile, "do you wish for me to impart some of my hard-earned knowledge?"

"You are only proving my point."

"And you will prove my point that you are nothing but a hypocrite if you kill me," Aristidis said carelessly, "have you ever considered the implications of being a prince? Assassination attempts become normal. Death is nothing but a swift way to be at peace."