“Knock, knock.”
There was a sudden knock on the door.
The farewell for Moen was left unfinished, Celicia gradually tightening hand halted abruptly. She glanced toward the door, a clear trace of annoyance flashing in her eyes.
“Tell whoever it is outside to leave,” Celicia said coldly to Moen.
“No way.”
Moen shook his head vigorously.
“This room is soundproof. Aside from the knocking, no other sounds can get in, nor can anything inside be heard from outside.”
“...”
Celicia's brows furrowed slightly as she stared at Moen, seemingly pondering something.
Eventually, she withdrew her hands—hands that could kill Moen at any moment—and stood up slowly.
“I’ll spare your life for now.”
“T-Thank you?”
“Put your clothes on and open the door.”
“S-Sure, okay.”
Feeling like he had just escaped from the jaws of death several times over, Moen hurried to his feet, grabbing the clothes nearby and hurriedly putting them on.
The 20-kilogram attire was particularly cumbersome to wear. If Moen hadn’t been observant while the maid dressed him earlier, he'd probably be clueless about how to put it on now.
Still, in his panic and haste, he almost reversed the inner lining several times.
All of this wasted quite a bit of time.
As he was dressing, however, he heard the faint rustling sound of fabric behind him.
This reminded him of the fleeting marvelous from earlier…
“If you dare turn around, I’ll kill you on the spot, even in the presence of someone else.” Celicia’s cold voice came from behind him.
“...” Moen shivered, doubling down on concentrating solely on “fighting” with his formal attire.
...
After he finally managed to dress, the sound behind him completely vanished. Unable to resist, Moen glanced back.
Celicia now sat elegantly on the sofa, organizing her silvery-white hair through a casually crafted ice mirror.
Her simple yet refined white gown perfectly complemented her alluring curves, radiating a mesmerizing grace without a trace of disorder.
If it weren’t for the weakness in his own legs as he walked, Moen might have thought it was merely a delightful dream earlier.
“Wait.”
Just as Moen was about to open the door, Celicia called out to him, then casually took out an exquisite bottle of perfume and sprayed several times into the air.
She sniffed lightly to confirm the strange scent had entirely disappeared and then nodded.
“Go ahead.”
...
Moen approached the door.
After everything that had happened—the sequence of events and multiple brushes with death—Moen's heart had finally found a modicum of calm.
But he felt no joy from narrowly surviving.
The plot had already deviated significantly from the original story, recklessly sprinting along the path of self-destruction.
The roads left available to Moen now boiled down to being killed by Celicia, executed by the enraged king, or meeting the gruesome fate he’d seen in his prophetic dream—being slashed to death by unknown assailants.
All of them were dead ends.
“So, protagonist, protagonist... What good is it for you to show up now?”
Moen opened the door.
He had expected that the person outside might be Ariel, the protagonist of the story.
But he was wrong.
Standing outside was only a maid, carrying pastries and tea.
The maid’s face was obscured by the shadow cast by the doorway, making it somewhat difficult to see.
“Moen, young master, the Madam noticed you’ve been talking with Princess Celicia for a long time. She thought you both might be hungry and asked me to bring you some refreshments.”
“Oh, oh.”
So it was Mother, huh? She must have noticed I’d invited Celicia to speak privately.
Thanks to Mother, her timing is impeccable.
Moen didn’t think too much about it and stepped aside to clear the way.
“Place them on the table over there.”
“Yes, sir.”
The maid nodded respectfully, entered the room with the tray.
As she passed Moen, her face was finally illuminated by the room's gentle lighting.
“Wait.”
Moen suddenly sensed something was wrong.
“Why have I never seen you before?”
The maids in Duke’s manor were all well selected and trained—most of them having grown up in the Duke's household undergoing specialized maid education. This was to prevent the malicious one from infiltrating the manor.
Even though Moen had only been in this world since yesterday, his inherited memories from the original Moen should have given him impression of every maid in the manor. At the very least, he might not remember their names but wouldn't find them unfamiliar.
However, the face before him evoked only one thought in his mind: “stranger.”
“Of course you wouldn’t know me, young master Moen.”
The maid continued walking toward the tea table.
“I was just selected into the Duke’s manor last night.”
“Last night…”
Moen’s thoughts clicked into place. “One of the extra maids for the banquet?”
“Precisely. I’m here to assist.”
The maid reached the tea table at the center of the room and placed the tray holding the pastries and teacups on it.
“Though I do have another job to complete as well.”
“Another... job?”
Moen was still chewing over her words when he suddenly noticed the maid pulling out a dagger from beneath the tray. Its blade gleamed coldly.
The gesture was so natural and fluid that Moen froze for a second before fully realizing what was happening.
His heart and pupils contracted simultaneously. Blood surged to his head as his brain raced at lightning speed in that instant.
—She's not targeting me, since she clearly had the best chance earlier when she entered.
That means...
“Celicia!”
Moen shouted a warning instinctively.
The maid’s figure abruptly vanished.
Like a fragile illusion under the sun.
When she reappeared, she was right in front of Celicia.
“So fast!”
Moen exclaimed in shock.
The rooms in the Duke’s manor were never small. Since the coffee table was in a state where it had just been tipped over and then picked up again, it was meters away from the couch.
Yet for the maid, those several meters seemed not to exist.
In a single blink of an eye, the dagger in her hand slashed toward Celicia’s delicate, pale neck.
The grim reaper raised his scythe in that moment.
…
*Clang.*
The vision of blood spurting that Moen had dreaded did not materialize.
Celicia remained calm as ever. Even faced with such a swift and sudden attack, her icy gaze betrayed not the slightest hint of panic.
At some point, she had raised her hand—a shimmering, ice-blue sword formed from the same material as her mirror now in her grasp. It intercepted the assassin’s dagger cleanly.
The clash between ice-blade and dagger sent invisible ripples outward. The shock waves shattered the tea table, the sofa, and etched sharp cuts into the walls around them.
“Let me guess…”
Celicia’s icy gaze pinned the maid in place as she asked coldly:
“It's my foolish brother send you right?”
“Sorry, your highness, the information about my employer is classified.”
The maid suddenly leapt back, though her eyes showed no trace of retreat. She was merely pulling away to prepare for another attack.
But there was no way Celicia was going to grant her the opportunity!
With a light tap of her toe, a thin layer of frost expanded toward the maid rapidly, exploiting the residual moisture on the ground to accelerate its spread.
As the maid dodged, she frowned slightly. “Why is there so much water here?”
“...”
For the first time, a faint blush spread across Celicia’s perpetually icy face, her eyes showing a trace of embarrassment. Her expression darkened, and she stomped her heel into the ground, causing the frost to erupt into sharp ice spikes stabbing upward relentlessly toward the airborne maid who could no longer evade.
