An Unwritten Story [LitRPG, Evil MCs]

Vionette smiled as she looked at Lucien kneeling before her, accepting her invitation.

The sunlight filtered through the ivory canopy and caught in her white hair like a halo forged from frost and flame, casting her in an almost divine glow. Beneath that radiance knelt the heir of Blackmoor—not broken or defeated anymore, but reshaped.

His pride remained, only redirected; his ambitions were amplified, and a profound faith had taken root. He was a blade taken from one sheath and placed into another.

“From now on, you will be assigned as the Royal Envoy.”

“?!!”

Lucien lifted his head in sheer surprise for a moment, his eyes widening as if struck by lightning rather than mercy, before he quickly lowered it again as discipline reclaimed him.

“…Yes, My Lady.”

The others present wore the same expression of stunned disbelief: The counts widened their eyes dramatically; Valric’s mouth opened unintentionally, the mask of a duke cracking for a fleeting heartbeat; the marshal, who had faced blood-soaked battlefields without blinking, found cold sweat gathering at his temple; The chancellor’s expression remained composed—but only because the silver mask covering his lower face concealed the sudden tremor in his lips.

“T-the royal envoy?”

“…The Queen’s representative?”

“Lucien…?”

Murmurs spread like wildfire through dry autumn leaves.

My son is… the royal envoy? Lucien? Valric’s gaze quickly landed on Vionette.

The Royal Envoy was no minor title. The position directly represented the queen when she was absent—a role that, though temporary, could wield an authority towering above dukes.

A living extension of the throne itself.

And that very role had just been granted to the duke’s son who, only hours ago, had tried to steal the Queen’s earring.

A single tear slid down from Lucien’s left eye as he remained kneeling before Vionette. It glimmered in the filtered sunlight before falling onto the polished stone beneath him like a seal pressed by fate.

I know I’m not a hero. But this time, I’ll do what needs to be done.

“Now go back to your seat. We’ll be continuing the meeting.” Vionette withdrew her sword with a smooth metallic whisper, before she returned to her seat.

The Lucien case had only been one layer of Vionette’s design—to break him publicly and rebuild him personally—but the true purpose of the meeting concerned something else.

Lucien returned to his seat with a confidence completely different from before. Previously, he had sought status; now, he sought worth. Before, he had wanted to stand above others; now, he still wanted to stand above others, but below her.

“Are we deadass doing an avengers assemble or something?” Noa asked, closing one eye while the other locked onto Vionette.

“Well… I don’t know. I just go with how it is.” She lifted her porcelain cup again, quietly enjoying her tea.

“Heheh, this will be fun.”

The nobles glanced left and right awkwardly. For a brief moment, they had forgotten that Noa had called himself Vionette’s partner.

“Next,” Vionette said, extending her hand toward Valric, “I would like to hear about duke Valric’s story.”

My story? Valric moved his chin back slightly. Does she mean ‘that’?

Valric stood from his chair slowly, his dignity fully reclaimed but the tension still lingering in the air. “For about a week now, there have been abnormal incidents near Blackmoor's borders.”

Vionette raised a brow. “…Abnormal?”

“Yes,” Valric nodded gravely. “Cases involving the disappearances of civilians and Aether corruption.”

“And?”

“To investigate these cases, I sent out a few of my own knights about three days ago. They—”

“You mean that Kaelen guy right?” Noa interrupted, raising a finger.

Valric turned toward him and offered a firm nod. “Yes, my lord.”

“So you did find him. Got to know him?” Vionette asked, casting a side-eye toward Noa with a smile.

“Not quite ‘know’. He was just one of ‘them’, as you guessed.”

The nobles exchanged confused looks, the marshal frowned faintly, and the chancellor’s eyes narrowed.

So it’s true. Vionette confirmed, understanding what his words meant. The knight I received reports about, rising through the ranks despite lacking any skills—a ‘protagonist’ variable.

“Let’s hear the story directly from him then.” She turned back toward Valric. “Summon this Kaelen guy.”

“I shall.” Valric bowed low.

***

“…What happened here?” Kaelen stared at the half-destroyed training ground, his eyes wide with shock.

The diorite tiles were cracked and upturned, and wooden practice dolls lay shattered in half. It was a whole fifty-meter radius of destruction.

He stood in a casual white t-shirt and long brown pants, fresh bandages wrapped tightly around his torso and arms, while Kenar supported him firmly by the shoulder.

“I heard that someone punched the lord,” Kenar replied, gesturing toward the surrounding devastation, “and then did this.”

Kaelen blinked. “…Punched?”

Before any more theories could be born, a maid approached them with swift, composed elegance.

“Her Majesty, Princess Vionette, has summoned sir Kaelen to the Private Garden.” She bowed lightly.

The two stared at each other blankly.

“…what?”

“…what?”

…

Hey! Hey! Hey! What is going on here?!

As Kaelen and Kenar approached the private garden, led by the maid, their steps slowed unconsciously. The ivory canopy came into view first, followed by the imposing figures gathered beneath it.

A young woman in her mid-20s, with shining white hair that seemed to radiate trapped sunlight, sat elegantly at one narrow end of the long table. Her crimson eyes turned slowly, locking directly onto Kaelen’s ocean-blue eyes.

“Is that Her Majesty?” Kaelen whispered toward Kenar.

“…I think so. Do you see any other females here?”

“I see…”

They had never seen Vionette in person before, but nearly everyone in Crimvane knew the distinct traits the royal lineage followed—stark white hair and piercing crimson eyes.

Both turned toward Valric instinctively.

“…Why is the duke in that position?”

“Right? Shouldn’t he be facing—Oh.” Kenar’s voice lowered to a harsh whisper as his gaze shifted.

At the opposite narrow end of the diorite table sat a black-haired young man—positioned exactly where the person with the second most authority in the realm should sit.

“Hey… That’s the guy that saved us from before,” Kenar whispered to Kaelen.

Kaelen turned and met Noa’s face. Noticing that their eyes had already shifted toward him, Noa offered back a cheerful wave.

“…that’s him?” Kaelen narrowed his eyes, examining Noa closely before the sudden excitement in his eyes died down. “He doesn’t seem to be a royal knight though.”

“I know right? And…”

“Yea. He is sitting where the lord is supposed to.”

As questions piled up faster than answers, they stepped beneath the canopy and bowed toward Vionette. Kenar was permitted to remain due to Kaelen’s injuries.

“Rose, get two chairs for them.” Noa said, snapping a finger toward Rose.

Naturally, Rose herself didn’t budge an inch. She simply looked at the local maids of Blackmoor and offered a subtle signal with her head, prompting them to move.

We’re supposed to stand. Kaelen looked anxiously toward Vionette. If we sit without her majesty’s permission—

“Please don’t. We’re fi—”

“Don’t worry, just sit down.” Vionette offered a warm smile laced with a faint authority. “We’re going to have a looong chat.”

They looked at each other.

It’s fine then… right?

From behind them, two maids stepped forward and brought up two chairs, placing them slightly further away from the table.

In noble courts, sitting without permission was a swift attempt at social suicide. In front of royalty, it was practically self-execution.

Still, she said it. So… don’t mind if we do. Kenar carefully helped Kaelen down before taking his own seat.

…why did he move without her majesty’s permission? Kaelen glanced covertly at Noa. Who is this guy?

“Kaelen was it?” Vionette asked, her voice drawing his attention back to her instantly.

“Yes Your Majesty!” he stood instantly, nearly forgetting his injuries. “Kaelen Veythorne.”

The movement was too fast! It hurts! Pain shot across his cracked ribs like jagged lightning, yet he endured it without letting a single sound escape his lips.

“I’m Kenar Sigwon.” Kenar followed suit, standing and bowing with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm for someone standing in front of their Queen.

There was a brief silence blanketed over the garden. Then—

“Pfff!” A poorly suppressed laugh slipped out into the quiet.

Everyone turned toward Noa, who was hastily covering his mouth with one hand, his shoulders trembling faintly. His dark eyes glimmered with a barely contained amusement.

Kenar… Karen.

Memories from another world had ambushed him without mercy. A name that once triggered digital storms of arguments and viral chaos back on Earth being here, in a fantasy dukedom, was simply too much to bear.

Vionette’s eyebrow twitched violently.

“Shut the hell up!” Her composure shattered, her voice echoing across the garden as she extended an accusing finger toward Noa.

The nobles froze in shock, the marshal blinked in surprise, and Valric looked as if he were witnessing political suicide manifest in real-time.

Noa narrowed his eyes playfully, leaning forward with a teasing smile. “You found it funny too right?”

Vionette froze.

“You’re just better at hiding it than I am.” He tilted his head with absolute confidence.

She turned her head away to the side, covering her mouth with a hand. “…well—pf… kind of—pff.”

“Right? I knew it!” Noa pointed at her triumphantly, looking as though he had just won a heated debate in a tavern.

Away from the table, Kaelen stared blankly at the scene like a man watching history rewrite itself right before his eyes.

This… this is the royal family?

These two… Rose thought, a coil of pure irritation tightening inside her head. I am NOT getting paid enough for this!

Her left eye twitched ever so slightly. “My lord, my lady, I think we should continue the main meeting.” Her tone was polite, her smile was flawless, yet the aura radiating from her body was decidedly not.

“…jeez, you’re no fun, Rose.” Noa sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as though deeply wounded. “You even screwed up my Batman role-play.”

“Agreed,” Vionette agreed, pouting slightly.

They looked like two problem children being thoroughly scolded during a royal court session—except for the minor fact that they technically outranked every person present in the room.

“What’s going on?” Kaelen whispered, leaning slightly toward Kenar, trying not to make it obvious.

“I don’t know,” Kenar muttered back under his breath. “Is my name weird or something? Could I be some royal’s descendant?”

Sigwon… an ancient bloodline? A lost prince? A hidden heir? his imagination betrayed him completely, spinning wild fantasies in a second.

“Hell no!” Kaelen crushed the burgeoning fantasy immediately.

“Ahem! Okay!” Vionette’s tone snapped back into its princess mode. “Kaelen, tell us about what happened in Blackmoor borders while you were there, from start to finish.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The air itself seemed to realign instantly, and so did Kaelen's posture. “We were…”

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