One time, a princess and her partner went to a foreign kingdom to discuss a treaty between their lands. They talked it over nicely, sipping tea beneath heavy chandeliers of polished crystal. Smiles were exchanged, words were chosen with care, and even the clink of ceramic against saucer seemed rehearsed.
After formally greeting the king, they decided to head back. BUT! That’s when a dangerous man appeared.
He did not arrive like thunder. He did not announce himself like a villain in a stage play. He simply stepped forward—and sometimes, that is more than enough.
He provoked the poor princess and started to bully her, his words sharp and dipped in condescension. He stood too close, his long shadow stretching under the golden lights and falling across her like the edge of a blade.
When the princess tried to fight back, he aimed a punch straight at her, filling the poor girl's eyes with tears as the fist rushed toward her face.
‘Kyaaa!’ she screamed loudly, weeping completely—
“Hold! The fuck! Up!”
The grand narration abruptly shattered as Vionette shouted.
“What? I was just getting to the good part.” Noa placed a hand over his heart, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
They were walking along the quiet, moonlit road. Their carriage was visible in the distance, the horses shifting their weight impatiently as their breath fogged faintly in the cool night air.
“Why would you even try to use that skill? You could’ve ruined the entire plan!” Vionette yelled at him, her voice dripping with irritation.
“C’mon,” Noa said casually, waving a hand. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad…?” A sharp wrinkle appeared on her forehead. She stepped forward and aggressively grabbed him by the ear. “You could’ve accidentally killed at least half the people present and destroyed the fucking garden!”
“Ouch! Ouch! Okay, okay!” Noa sneered, his brows pulling tight. “Hey, you’re not my mom! Let go!”
“So what if I’m not?” She pulled his ear downward, forcing him to bend over until his head was aligned with her shoulder.
Noa—who was stuck leaning sideways under her grip—turned his head, ready to retort, ready to argue, ready to—
“!!?”
As he turned his face toward her, his eyes instinctively locked onto something else. Specifically, the view he liked most about her, a feature he considered perfectly balanced—her chest, moving gracefully with every step she took.
It was refined, composed, and elegantly framed by her attire, the fabric curving with deliberate grace. The moonlight did not discriminate; it illuminated everything equally.
Holy bakery!
For a split second, time betrayed him. The distant carriage suddenly felt miles away. Politics? Forgotten. Diplomacy? Irrelevant. The grand strategy of two warring kingdoms? Completely erased from his brain.
“You can continue doing this, your majesty,” he whispered slowly to himself, a bit of drool practically escaping his mouth.
Now, Noa wouldn't fall for a woman just because she was beautiful. He had standards. But as for Vionette… she was, in both personality and form, his exact type. A personality he could easily vibe with, and a shape he considered flawless.
To him, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, or ever would.
“What did you just say?” she asked, catching only stray fragments of his quiet mumbling.
“Nothing!” he replied brightly, snapping his free hand up to give her a solid thumbs-up. “You can continue!”
“…”
Anyway, ignoring this pervert… in Mythara, when someone awakens a skill, its name and a brief description of its functions are engraved directly into the awakener’s mind. The same thing happened to Noa. Vionette kept her eyes locked on him as they walked. When he crossed over to this world, he was granted some skills, but it seems he couldn’t use any of them until his body reached a certain state. System, show me Noa’s status window.
[Understood! Processing…]
[Name: Noa Ravel]
[Race: Human]
[Age: 21]
[Affiliation: Otherworlder]
[Titles: —]
[Essence Fragment: ???]
[Synchronization: ???]
Skills
[Low Pain Resistance (Common)]
• Passively reduces perceived pain response.
[Low Explosion Resistance (Common)]
• Passively reduces explosion-type damage by a small percentage.
[Minor Regeneration (Uncommon)]
• Gradually restores minor physical injuries.
• Severe or fatal wounds are not affected.
[Aura Blade (Rare)]
• Applies user’s aura to a held weapon or own body.
[Blink (Rare)]
• Allows the user to teleport to a solid, perceived location.
[Presence Override (Rare)]
• Allows controlled emission or suppression of aura output.
[Echo Reclamation (Unique)]
• Absorbs negative emotions and converts it into destructive energy.
• Power output scales with intensity and volume of accumulated emotions.
• Excess saturation may cause mental instability.
[A Match Made in Hell (Unique)]
• Two souls written within the same forbidden paragraph of fate. Born in different worlds, shaped by different scars, yet aligned by a design that even the infinite world cannot ignore. If trust is given willingly, a pact may be formed surpassing the level of the soul itself.
• Before pact creation: Detect and locate your destined soulmate.
• After pact creation:
– If one perishes, the other follows.
– Enables communication and perception regardless of range.
– Allows compatible skills to be shared.
– Switch places with each other for every 24h.
• Pacts created: 1/1
[Low Pain Resistance] had been acquired during his frantic escape in Cyradis—a small mercy born from desperation. [Low Explosion Resistance], [Minor Regeneration], and [Aura Blade] were all beaten out of his battle with the church. The other skills had been granted upon his summoning, while [A Match Made in Hell] was shared from his bond with Vionette.
Earlier today, he had cleanly used [Presence Override] to completely suppress his aura, causing Cassion to drop his guard entirely. Then, a quick drop of [Blink] closed the distance between heartbeats, which was the reason Roswell couldn't trace Noa's footsteps.
But trying to unleash [Echo Reclamation] was the real reason Vionette was punishing him right now. Though, looking at Noa's face, it didn't really look like punishment anymore.
Why am I angry? The ‘excess saturation may cause mental instability’ drawback can just be nullified by using [A Match Made in Hell] as a corridor, allowing my own skill, [Mind Fortress], to stabilize Blackie’s mind. She looked away from the translucent system window, casting her gaze back over to Noa. But the real issue is that its destructive power is just too op. I wouldn’t usually mind, but we need Cassion and the others alive for the time being.
As they finally drew close to the waiting vehicle, Vionette let go of Noa’s ear.
“Alright, we’re right by the carriage. Stop staring at my boobs now,” she said, peering over at Noa with a knowing smile.
She knew?!
“A-Ahem…. Are we going by carriage again?” he asked cautiously, looking at the wooden box.
“Yes!” Vionette declared, her face becoming serious—almost too serious.
“Well then, good luck with that.” Turning on his heel, Noa immediately began walking away at a brisk pace. “I’ll just go ahead using a teleportation circle.”
WHAAAAT?! Vionette’s eyes widened in horror as she watched him abandon ship.
“WAIT! WAIT! WAIT!” She sprinted forward and aggressively wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, anchoring herself to him to halt his escape. “Please don’t! No! No! No! Absolutely not! Please, man…”
Noa glanced over his shoulder, looking down at her face, which was currently filled with genuine, fear-induced tears.
“No,” he replied flatly.
Hearing his blunt refusal, Vionette stared down at the road, her mind racing as she calculated all the possible routes and imagined the worst-case scenarios.
Realizing she had zero leverage left, she finally cracked.
“…Okay, okay. We’ll just go tomorrow, alright? Just don’t go alone today.”
“…” Noa stared at her pitiful, clinging state, running his fingers through the back of his dark hair. “Alright, geez. Now, get off me.” He tried to lightly push her arms away.
Wait a minute! A sudden realization sparked in his brain.
“Wait, actually, no. Stay like that.” He quickly clamped his hands over hers, locking her arms around his waist so she couldn't let go.
“Ohhh~ Do you like being hugged?” she teased, her fearful tears vanishing the instant he agreed to stay.
“No.”
“Then?”
“I like being hugged by you.”
Suddenly, the cool night air felt a whole lot warmer. The moment the words left his mouth, Vionette’s face flushed a brilliant crimson. She gripped the fabric of his back, burying her face into his jacket to hide her expression.
Feeling a little bit of embarrassment himself, Noa turned his head in another direction. But the instant his gaze shifted, his expression warped from smug satisfaction into pure, unadulterated dread.
There, standing just a few yards away under the moonlight, were Mara, Lina, Isla, and Numael, quietly watching the entire display from the sidelines.
Crap!
Mara had her right hand pressed firmly over her lips, barely containing a massive surge of laughter. Lina somehow had a notebook out and was aggressively scribbling notes down at an alarming velocity, her eyes shining with scholarly excitement. Next to them, Isla was making a proud, emotional face, wiping away dramatic, imaginary tears. Numael stood perfectly straight, throwing up a rigid military salute as if he were personally witnessing a historic global alliance.
“Oh my~ right out on the street, too?” Mara teased loudly.
“This will serve as excellent data for the future,” Lina stated with deep earnestness.
“She’s grown up so muuuch! Sniff!” Isla fake-cried, wiping her dry eyes.
“Omedetou, Vionette-sama,” Numael declared with utmost gravity.
Time seemed to freeze as Vionette, hearing the familiar voices, snapped her head toward the source. Both of their eyes widened, their lips parting in unison.
“Huh?”
“Eh?”
“Wait—this is a misunderstanding!” Noa panicked, frantically waving his free hand defensively.
“Y-yes! A misunderstanding, okay?!” Vionette echoed loudly, completely forgetting to let go of Noa's waist.
The four onlookers exchanged a series of knowing glances, each wearing a completely different type of smirk, yet all radiating the exact same chaotic intent.
“Oh, don’t worry~ We won’t tell anyone.”
“Just taking notes. That’s all.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Precisely.”
They are absolutely going to spread rumors! Noa thought, casting a desperate, panicked look at Vionette. Probably… Undoubtedly… Certainly.
---
Meanwhile, in the Royal Garden,
King Roswell sat in the pavilion, his fingers interlocked as his hands rested on the cold stone table. He leaned forward, staring intently into the dark surface as though looking down into an invisible, bottomless abyss.
The night was perfectly quiet, but the thoughts racing through his mind were anything but peaceful.
Aurelyth possesses superior knight counts, heavy armor forged from their rich ore veins, and even the direct backing of the Northern Church—whose holy blessings often carry far more weight than physical steel. He rubbed his temples, trying to logically weigh his options. While on the other hand, Crimvane only has a young, unhinged woman as a ruler… and a surplus of food. However—
‘Please make your decision wisely.’
Vionette’s parting words continued to echo through his subconscious over and over again, sounding like a rhythmic danger bell ringing through a thick fog.
Over. And over.
The night wind swept through the trimmed hedges and grand marble pillars, carrying the crisp scent of damp earth.
“Your Majesty, what is your decision?” Cornelius asked, a faint trace of worry breaking through his otherwise composed expression.
“…” The king offered no reply.
“If we analyze this through a logical lens, Aurelyth holds the highest probability of victory. If we were to align ourselves with them, the odds would be heavily in our favor. But…” Cornelius trailed off, his expression growing complicated.
“Yes,” Roswell murmured softly. “We both witnessed it with our own eyes… she has completely changed. And…” He turned his sharp gaze back to his butler.
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Do you know anything about that man named Noa? Or his family line?” Roswell’s eyes narrowed into slits.
Cornelius offered a long moment of heavy silence, and that action alone instantly dampened Roswell’s lingering hopes. The butler recalled his records for a few seconds, placing a hand beneath his chin before looking back up at his king.
“Quite the opposite, Your Majesty,” Cornelius admitted, looking thoroughly disappointed in his own network. “We have no records of his origins, aside from the fact that there is no noble lineage or royal house named Ravel.”
Roswell shifted uncomfortably in his seat, leaning his palm flat over his forehead. “Just where on earth did this person come from? And what exactly is the Ravel family?”
“…He looked highly unusual. Or rather… it was his eyes,” Cornelius added, his own brow furrowing. “I have only ever seen a handful of individuals with eyes like that in my life. Though they weren't identical to his. In those cases, it was merely the active visual manifestation of a skill.”
Roswell leaned heavily back into the deep recesses of his chair. “…Is that so?”
This entire situation is like a tangled ball of knitted yarn tossed carelessly into the pitch black. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling a headache brewing. If I pull on one loose thread, another knot tightens somewhere else. Even if I try to untangle it, it leads straight to a dead end.
“What the hell are we supposed to do…” he muttered to the empty air.
Cornelius, seeing Roswell completely exhausted, raised his hand and conjured a fresh glass of water. Small chunks of ice materialized through raw magic, instant frost forming along the polished rim.
“Your Majesty, please drink this and relax your mind. It is always best to be in a calm state before making decisions.”
Roswell looked up into Cornelius’ stable eyes.
Sigh… He’s right. I’m losing my edge. I need to calm down.
Gulp-gulp.
After draining the glass, he leaned back into the luxurious, cushioned chair, draping his arms across the backrest as his eyes lifted to the indifferent stars scattered across the sky above.
“You really did screw me over…” his jaw tightened, the words escaping through his teeth, “…Vionette Crimvane.”
High above the palace, the ancient constellations watched over the world without offering a single answer. But somewhere far away, a young princess laughed beneath the exact same sky.
And the board continued to shift.
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