Chapter 6: Flowers in the Courtyard
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It had been three days since I'd found the death threat.
Three days since Lady Seraphina had confirmed it came from my brother's inner circle.
Three days since I'd started watching everyone more carefully.
I didn't make any dramatic moves. No accusations. No secret meetings. Just slow, methodical observation—the kind the old me, the gamer me, would've dismissed as "NPC filler stuff."
But here in this world, those quiet days were everything.
Because this wasn't a battlefield where you won with swords.
This was court.
And here, wars were fought with glances, smiles, and whispered rumors over wine.
Today, I was in the south courtyard, of all places. Not for any scheming purpose. I just… needed air.
The palace was full of eyes and expectations. The garden, at least, still felt like a place where I could think without a dozen nobles measuring my worth with every breath.
I sat alone on a stone bench, under the bloom of blue wisteria. The petals danced in the breeze like falling bits of sky.
Across the path, an elderly gardener trimmed the hedges in patient silence. Occasionally, birds chirped. For once, no one followed me.
And that's when she arrived.
Claribel.
Princess Claribel . The Saintess. The golden girl.
She wore a soft lilac dress, not overly formal, but clean and elegant, with a ribbon around her waist and a matching hairpin. Her presence made the air shift, like stepping into sunlight after a long storm.
"I thought I'd find you here," she said.
I blinked. "You were looking for me?"
She walked over and stood beside the bench, her gaze scanning the flowers instead of me.
"I remembered this was your mother's garden," she said softly.
That stopped me.
Lucien's mother—Empress Liraine—had died when he was just a boy. The court rarely spoke of her. Not out of malice, but because silence was easier.
"You remember that?" I asked.
"I studied the royal family for years before I was ever brought to court," she replied. "I don't forget things."
I gestured to the empty spot beside me. "Want to sit?"
She hesitated. Just a second. Then sat down gracefully, hands folded in her lap.
For a while, we didn't talk. Just watched the wind nudge the flowers.
Then, Claribel spoke.
"Your brothers think you're hiding something."
I didn't flinch. "They're not wrong."
"But I think," she said, "you're trying to fix something."
That caught me off guard.
"Why?" I asked. "Why not assume I'm manipulating everyone, like I always did before?"
She turned to face me. Her eyes weren't angry. Just… curious.
"Because when I looked into your eyes last week, I didn't see ambition. I saw regret."
That hit deeper than I expected.
Because she was right.
I'd spent my whole life in the real world as a gamer, escaping into stories where I could be the hero. Then I got thrown into this world—and handed the role of the villain.
But regret? Yeah.
That was real.
"…Regret's not enough," I muttered.
"No," she agreed. "But it's a start."
[Ding!]
[Claribel Affection +5 — Status: Warm Trust Forming]
[Side Event Triggered: "Quiet Courtyard Moment" — Unlocks Hidden Memory if Affection > 25]
She stood after a while, smoothing her dress.
"I know you're not ready to tell me everything," she said. "But when you are... I'll listen."
Then, without waiting for permission, she picked a single blue flower and tucked it behind my ear.
I froze.
"…What's that for?"
She smiled. "A little color. You always look like you're attending your own funeral."
And just like that, she walked away.
No drama. No big reveal. Just the faintest blush on her cheeks as she left.
I touched the flower behind my ear.
Maybe this world wasn't so bad.
Later that evening, I met with Roland, my most loyal attendant.
Or, well... Lucien's loyal attendant. I was still figuring out if that loyalty extended to me.
He stood by my desk, hands behind his back, posture stiff. His short chestnut hair was always immaculately combed, and his silver uniform shone with military precision.
"You're being watched," he said.
I sighed. "When am I not?"
"I mean closely. Not just by servants. By agents of House Valemont. Possibly even a few of the Emperor's spies."
I sat back. "My dear brothers are really worried I might ruin their plans, huh?"
"You've deviated too far from your original pattern. You've made allies. Friends. You've shown restraint."
He frowned slightly. "Lucien D'Arvell never showed restraint."
I met his eyes.
"I'm not that Lucien."
He studied me. Carefully. Then nodded once, slowly.
"I believe you," he said. "But others won't. Not yet."
"Then we'll make them believe," I replied. "Slowly. One step at a time."
He handed me a folder. "This arrived by courier this afternoon. From House Marlowe."
That got my attention.
Lady Mirelle's family.
I opened the folder. Inside was an invitation—elegant, gilded with red wax and fine script.
You are cordially invited to the Grand Hunt in two weeks' time, held on the grounds of House Marlowe.
A chance for noble heirs to display their martial prowess… and their intentions.
I recognized that phrasing.
The Grand Hunt wasn't just about hunting beasts.
It was a courtship event.
An opportunity for noble families to scope out future marriages. Alliances. Influence.
And I had just been invited into the lion's den.
"I'm guessing Mirelle didn't send this herself," I muttered.
"No," Roland confirmed. "Her father did."
I closed the folder slowly.
This was either a trap… or an opportunity.
Possibly both.
But either way—
It meant I was now officially on the board.
And in this game?
No move came without a price.
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