An Unwritten Story [LitRPG, Evil MCs]

Two figures made their way through the ocean of light that Veylith had become. The crowd was a living, breathing tapestry of the three kingdoms.

Those who realized who was walking among them quickly averted their gazes or covered their mouths in silent, reverent awe, while the majority simply passed them by, unaware that the architects of their new world were sharing the same cobblestones.

“What’s first on the list?” Noa asked, his deep purple eyes drifting toward Vionette’s new outfit, lingering with a quiet, appreciative warmth.

The world seemed to pause for a heartbeat as Vionette reached out, her fingers warm and possessive as she tipped a finger beneath his chin, drawing his gaze back to her own.

“Eyes up,” she murmured playfully.

“But I can’t get my eyes off you, though.” Noa smiled, his expression dangerously charming as his purple eyes locked onto her crimson ones with magnetic intensity.

“Oh, really?” Vionette replied, drawing her hand back from his chin. “I mean, it is hard to find a woman as beautiful as me, so it's understandable.”

As they approached a considerably less crowded stretch of the street, Noa stopped and turned toward her with a smirk. “So, princess, what if I find a woman more beautiful than you?”

“I’m confident you’ll never find anyone better than me.” She smiled as she closed the distance between them, reaching out both hands toward him with a subtle tilt of her head. “So stop talking and let’s just go to our first stop.”

Noa reached out, but before picking her up, his hand cupped the back of her head, closing the final inch between them to press a soft kiss to her forehead. Vionette’s cheeks flushed a delicate, lovely crimson, her lips curving into a playful, affectionate smile meant for him and him alone.

“Alright, alright, Vio.” Sliding his arms beneath her, he scooped her up into a princess carry. “Let’s go then.”

“Okie,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek against the warmth of his chest.

[Blink]

***

To the side of the main thoroughfare, where the crowd thinned and the lantern-light softened into an amber glow, a young woman who seemed to be in her early twenties stood in a state of quiet, nervous anticipation.

She was a vision of the golden hour, her hair styled into a braid that fell over her left shoulder. The upper strands flowed freely around her face, softening her features into something resembling a nostalgic memory. Her wine-red eyes glimmered with a quiet, restless curiosity as she watched the festival-goers drift by like ghosts.

“Hey! Elan!”

A voice cut through the noise from across the street. As her heart skipped a beat, she turned toward the familiar sound—a voice she hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime—and a genuine smile broke across her face.

“Did you wait too long?” Lucien closed the distance between them, weaving through the crowd. “I was busy with something.”

He stopped before her, scratching the back of his head with a look of genuine apology.

Something… has changed? Elan thought, her wine-red eyes scanning him.

“No… I just got here, don’t worry,” she lied, concealing the long minutes she had spent waiting.

“That’s good. And more than that,” Lucien began, his smile widening into something warm and real, “it’s good to see you again after so long, Elan. Did you miss me?”

Elan’s cheeks flushed slightly as she pouted, turning her gaze away from him. “Who? Why would I miss you?”

Lucien let out a knowing chuckle, crossing his arms. “Looks like you’re still the same old girlfriend I knew.”

“W-who is your girlfriend?” She snapped her eyes back to him. “I only came because I felt bad refusing you.”

“By the way, that outfit really suits you,” he said, ignoring her protest as he rested two fingers against his chin to admire her. “I guess Lady Vionette’s bragging about that store wasn't for nothing.”

“Lady… Vionette? Oh! I nearly forgot you’re the Royal Envoy now,” Elan said, the title feeling strange on her tongue.

“I know, right? It was so sudden, and I’m sorry for not being able to inform you properly.” Lucien rolled his shoulders, a tired but satisfied sigh escaping him. “Though, looking back at it now, they probably would’ve given me the time to talk to you if I had just asked.”

“So, Her Majesty told you about the store,” Elan mused, her mind conjuring images of the terrifying, beautiful Queen. “She has quite the passion… I wonder what her outfit looks like today.”

“You didn’t see her give the speech earlier?”

“No. I was a little late, so I missed it. I've heard talk about their matching beauty from everyone I pass, though.”

“Well, if we meet them somewhere in this mess, I’ll introduce you. But—” Lucien stepped closer, his own red eyes meeting hers with sudden depth “—enough of that. I’m just glad to see you again.”

He pulled her into a tight embrace, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. Elan was stunned for a heartbeat, the warmth of him grounding her, before she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed back. She wanted to pull away out of shyness, but the rapid beating of her heart betrayed her.

“You really did change a little,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“So what if I did? I’m still me.”

Lucien pushed her back just an inch, his hands resting on her shoulders before he leaned in and closed the gap between their lips. Elan closed her eyes gently, the kiss tasting like a sweet reunion under the festival lights.

“That’s enough… people are watching,” Elan whispered, pushing him back with flustered strength.

Lucien smirked, well-acquainted with her modest streak.

“Shall we get going then,” he said, dropping into a dramatic, sweeping bow as he extended a hand toward her, “my lady?”

“Stop it! It’s embarrassing!” Elan exclaimed, turning away as if she didn't know him.

Lucien chuckled teasingly.

…

The two strolled along the street, their minds a blissful blank as they tried to decide what to do next.

They glanced at the food stalls, but the lines formed an impenetrable wall of hungry citizens. They paused before a carnival game where players threw balls at moving targets. Lucien’s eyes lit up with a brief, misguided desire to win Elan a prize, but before he could reach for his purse, Elan quickly grabbed his arm and steered him away.

“Lucien! Over here!”

Both turned around to see two familiar figures standing by a display of glowing glass. It was Kaelen and Rose. Rose was waving her hand with rare enthusiasm, while Kaelen watched them with a smile.

As they approached, Rose and Kaelen both shot Elan a curious, analytical look before exchanging a glance.

“Is this… the one you bragged about?” Rose asked bluntly, her eyes scanning Elan’s outfit.

“Yes. This is Elan, my girlfriend. And Elan,” Lucien said, gesturing toward the pair, “this is Rose, the head royal maid, and this is Kaelen, whom you already know.”

“Kaelen? What is he doing here?” Elan whispered to Lucien, her eyes wide. “Isn’t he supposed to be protecting your father right now?”

“I didn't tell you? He is the Royal Knight Commander now,” Lucien replied casually.

“What!?” She took a few steps back.

Lucien smiled and stepped beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just go with it.”

Even after hearing such a bizarre response, she chose to trust Lucien’s word. Then, a new shadow of worry crossed her face as she looked at the two key figures standing before her.

“Then… are you sure I’m supposed to be here? Among all these important people?”

“Just go with it, don’t worry,” Lucien said, waving a hand nonchalantly. “No matter what title they hold, it’s still just Kaelen and Rose, isn’t it?”

“Just… go with it?”

“What are you guys whispering about?” Kaelen interrupted, tilting his head. “And why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing. Moving on—” Lucien continued, his expression shifting into a mischievous mask as his eyes darted between Rose and Kaelen “—are you two out on a date together? How romantic~”

In a flash, Rose slipped a hidden blade from her dress and held it dangerously close to Lucien’s throat.

“Speak another word and you’re dead on the ground,” she warned, her voice dropping an octave.

“I-it was just a joke!” Lucien stammered in panic, his hands raised in immediate surrender. “L-let’s just… enjoy our day… right?”

“Whatever.” Rose clicked her tongue and stowed her knife away.

And while the two rulers began to enjoy their night in the heart of the crowd, and their subordinates set off to chase their own versions of joy, a different kind of commotion was brewing elsewhere in Veylith, where a pink-haired girl and a dragon were discovering their own brand of fun.

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