Fantasy Heroine of the Damned - IC

[ATurei]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
THE ORIGINAL​

Heroine of the Damned’s opening song is as familiar to the veteran player as it is exhilarating. A melody that verges at first on the bland and inoffensive, giving a false impression that you’re tired of this--that surely you needn’t sit through this unskippable sequence every new game. But defiantly it carries on, gradually opening up as the singing voices grew in numbers and speed, and before you know it, has roped you back in with an air of excitement no inferior to the first time around. Upon reaching the crescendo of high-pitched notes and accelerated beats, it has almost made you forget the sourness of a failed campaign, may even have washed away the bitter taste of a bad ending with something sweet.

The visuals help, with pretty sprites of the love interests and snippets of beautiful illustrations flying by in sparkling succession. The dominant palette being pastels, the style striking and the transition between sequences abrupt. It is the audacity of presenting such a bright and bubbly packaging for a product well-known for its grim content and morbid themes that gets a chuckle out of you.

And then the iconic conclusion: the images fade and the camera closes in on the heroine’s face, only the slightest hints of a frown with her eyes shut and the rest of her features expressionless. She blinks her eyes open, the camera rotates with her as its axis.

The hazy images of her surroundings resolve into coherent shapes. Great swathes of dark and gray, tinted ever so slightly with pinkish and yellow ribbons, grow into the solemn uniforms resembling hers own. Almost suddenly, the player finds themselves standing amidst a host of students.

Thus once more Heroine of the Damned gets underway from its wonted starting point.

The camera shakes, and the heroine, whose first name is determined by the player, slightly wobbles. She brings a hand to her temple, feeling her aching head.

A familiar voice calls out to her. It’s Ceryn, bland Ceryn, whose face without fail draws a groan out of your lips, a sharp contrast to the refreshing-every-time opening song. At which point you smash the button to skip her lines of tedious dialogues, speeding through lengthy expositions of the ceremony’s purpose and reminiscences of her past as the heroine’s childhood friend.

Only when the NPC has expressed her joy to see the heroine again after two years apart are you allowed to move. But Ceryn won’t let you go just yet.

Can you walk? she asked. Yes, Ceryn, yours truly’s been prancing around since the age of two and has known how to use a gamepad’s joystick for a little less than that. Like, can you just stop? Won’t you please leave alone? Just please go away. But Ceryn can’t and won’t. Patiently and defiantly, she instructs you how to use the joystick to move around. It is not until several tasks after that the heroine is allowed to proceed towards the fresh air she craves.

Leaving the ceremony and Ceryn’s looming shadow behind, the heroine informs a supervisor of her spell of lightheadedness. And soon she’s outside the building, breathing in the fresh air she so badly needs.

At which point, she hears a faint cry in the distance, so faint as to be easily mistaken for a bird caw.

The first choices in the game. Except it’s not choices, as only a singular box is available to click on.

1. Investigate the sound.

Her choice made, the heroine follows the noise past the treeline of a small forest behind the Academy’s campus. As she approaches the source of the cry, the ruckus is made louder, and becomes obvious to be human voices.

There she finds a group of noble-born students ganging up on a girl with two tiny horns on her forehead--a demon. The heroine’s first battle commences, her foes being the bullies whose deeds the righteous heroine shall not tolerate. As Ceryn has been left behind for this part of the scene, the heroine makes a show of going over her combat know-how verbally. The fight itself is very easy, that managing to lose it is actually an achievement only the most dedicated players have earned.

When the fight concludes, the player is presented with multiple choices for the first time:

1. Chase the bullies off.

2. Teach the bullies a lesson. (+1 corruption point)

If (2) is selected, the heroine rains needles on the bullies. Not enough to kill them, but painful enough for it to stay in their mind a long time. Otherwise, she will simply tell them off.

Either way, when the heroine’s not looking, one of the bullies gives a cry and summons his lackeys who've been waiting outside the forest. Suddenly the heroine is surrounded. She seems to be a bit in trouble.

At which point, she hears:

1. A hesitant voice so small as to be inaudible (Beau appears).

2. A powerful bellow resembling a lion roar (Durande appears).

3. A familiar and courteous voice (Levin appears).

4. A stern and haughty warning (Yulian appears) (Only available if (1) was picked from the previous choices).

5. A cold and cruel scorn (Hector appears) (Only available if (2) was picked from the previous choices).

Whichever love interest is selected, they then join the heroine in facing off the bullies and their lackeys. When the battle concludes, the love interest introduces themselves and escorts the heroine and the bullied girl back to the campus. The heroine earns 2 affection points with said love interest as a reward.

Thus ends the first main story scene in the game. In all, an unremarkable and mostly uneventful beginning to introduce the basic mechanisms as well as the love interests.

Except.

Should the player select the hard mode upon starting a new game after completing the game once in normal mode, a second choice is available after hearing the faint cry from the forest.

1. Investigate the sound.

2. Probably just my imagination, I should head back to the ceremony.

If (2) is selected, the heroine finds herself back inside the building, standing once more next to Ceryn as the ceremony proceeds normally. But as the event draws to a close, the entire building is shaken by a sudden explosion. Part of the wall crumbles, and there appears in the smoky aftermath a group of demons in black. They come bearing arms and violence, their intention is clear.

Though their identity is yet unknown to players who have only completed the more uneventful routes, these are members of the Black Dawn, a group of freedom fighters led by Hector Grimaldi de Alonso, one of the love interests and Caterina’s disowned brother. Hector’s real identity is a secret at this stage of the game, and he‘s currently masquerading as a commoner and sponsored by a human noble. This is also the organization Oriana de Luca is working with in secret, who is however too far down the ranks to be noticed of this assault.

The building’s security is swiftly dealt with and the students are left to fend for themselves. As before, the player is allowed to choose one of the love interests to fight with, only this time their names are stated clearly without camouflage.

1. Join Beau

2. Join Yulian

3. Join Durande

4. Join Levin

Naturally, Hector is nowhere to be found in this scene. The following battle is considered one of the hardest in the game relative to the player’s current strength. The player is made to face wave after wave of enemies all while having only a limited arsenal and resources, as there’s no carryover from the previous save available at this point.

Should the player manage to clear all the waves within the time limit, they are rewarded with a powerful item and a hefty haul: 10 Purity points and 5 affection points with the chosen love interest. (To put in context, both the morality and affection gauges all max out at 100 points)

Failure, however, means the accumulation of 10 Corruption points as the heroine witnesses the haunting sight of many students’ deaths.

Upon the scene’s ending, the love interest introduces themselves as in the other path.

Thus concludes a high-risk, high-reward scenario. Notably, whether the player chooses the easy option to fight the bullies or the hard one against the terrorists, the other event is treated as though it never happened in the game.

 

[ATurei]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 1 - THE HEROINE

​

It was the opening ceremony for a new school year at the Knight Academy. And as the students huddled together in ranks and files, low whispers could be heard all over. The mood was tired and dull. The gray light of early morning filtered through from the hall’s windows. A speech was going on. A very long speech.

Esme stood in the middle of this host of students, and was clearly not listening to the vice principal’s droning on.

What she did was soak it in, everything. The grayness of the hall, the smoky walls, the glistening of the polished stone floor. Everything that was merely dressing for the slumbering thing underneath. Most people would not care, she thought, to know just how old this place was.

It had not been two decades since this castle was repurposed for the Knight Academy’s usage. Nor could she tell with surety its original purpose. Only that the outer walls were black as obsidian, that the three tallest towers formed a trident thrusting skywards from its general outline, and that the niches along the walls were filled with awkward and pointless suits of armor where stone creatures heavy and monstrous had once sat. Yet even such things, so telltale of their origin, would likely be lost on the inattentive mass. It had been her experience that very few people cared for events of more than a decade past, let alone two, let alone an architectural style that had already been ancient when this kingdom was founded.

But she could feel it, beneath all the petty glamour and sparkly decorations, behind the metallic odour of a new age, something soaked deep underneath these stones that even now still rumbled on in an ancient language no one could hear. Theatrical, paranoid, rebellious, even, some might say of her impression. And they might be right. The Kingdom had tried her hardest to erase the old scent of darkness. Such as with the chandeliers, glittering like clusters of starlight over the students’ heads even now in the early morning. This extravagant usage of illumination magic had been deemed necessary for how tall the ceiling was. So tall it was indeed, that normally one would not be able to see all the way to the ceiling’s highest points with only the light filtered in through the stained glass windows. This had been a deliberate design. For the old ones of House Hades' blood or influence had liked to sit in their throne rooms with an immense darkness looming overhead like a moonless night. Even now, they say in certain ancient castles in Grimaldus, similar unlit pockets could still be found in fashion, being greatly cherished by old-fashioned demons. And since this darkness was never supposed to be illuminated, the intricate carvings and painted murals submerged in the ceiling’s shadow were likewise not made for mortal eyes. Such creations that, though she would not dare admit out loud, Esme was guiltily fascinated by. The notion that long ago artisans had labored on them while knowing they would never be seen by others. She found a certain romance in it. A sentiment that would be treated as sacrilege by the priesthood anywhere in the land.

But that was just the idea of it. For whatever romantic notions there had once been in those images’ obscurity, they had been banished forever. The chandeliers had long laid bare these murals to naked eyes. The Sophia faithful scorned darkness, of course; their goddess’s thunderbolts symbolized the piercing of darkness and mysteries. To keep things in darkness--dark deeds and dark makings--was sacrilege.

For one who harbored the secret appreciation, all she could do now was imagine. Eyes closed. Pretending the darkness behind her eyelids to be the shadowy curtain that once fell over a brooding lord on his silver throne...

It spoke to her.

Esme started. Was it a voice she had just heard? So lost was she in delusions and daydreaming that for a moment it felt like something had spoken. An unfamiliar voice at the back of her consciousness--what was it? She shuddered. A delusion that could easily be explained by a lack of sleep. So excited had she been for this day that she couldn’t sleep the night before. It was perhaps only natural that she was feeling a bit lightheaded.

Stifling a groan, she glanced about. The solemn figures of the student body made scarcely a sound. She felt out of breath.

And this was hardly the time to feel sick. Long had she waited for this day, ever since three months ago when Count Valeri had arrived at the Abbey of St. Hydrangea with a request to see the abbess in private. It had taken the count very little persuasion, or rather none at all, to get Esme to sign the documents to be a knight-to-be in his service. Others might covet her already enviable position in the One Temple, but for a girl who had dreamt for eighteen years of a life beyond the abbey’s walls, it was a dream come true.

The vice principal’s speech did not seem like it would end any time soon. Any more of this stuffy air and she was like to pass out in the middle of the hall. That was the one thing she would like to avoid on her first day at the academy.

“Ah, would you please..., Ceryn?” she whispered to the old friend standing next to her. “I need some fresh air, and maybe a breeze upon my skin.”

Not waiting for an answer, Esme waded right through the crowd, one packed full with solemn students standing in ranks and files, her steps made bold by an intense craving for fresh air.

Some of the students look at her with a look of disapproval. But what could she do? Passing out here would cause a greater ruckus than merely pretending not to be able to hold it in.

She went straight to one of the supervisors stationed at the main entrance to the hall. A young man with a slightly bored expression. Thanks to her obvious pallor, he was quickly convinced of her illness. With a click of his tongue, he turned and led her to a far corner of the hall, where a smaller door, perhaps for the servants’ usage, opened to a terrace outside. Upon receiving the supervisor’s permission, a guard in the livery of the Academy--a shining sword on a blue field--stepped aside to allow her through.

The decision to make her case with the supervisor first had been the right one, for it did not seem she would have made it past this guard at the entrance without express permission. The way the guard had glanced at the bow on her cape had not escaped Esme. Sewed on which was the image of a star, signifying her status as a commoner. Had it been the image of the sun, however, by which a student’s noble birth would be announced, no doubt he would have allowed her to come through even without the supervisor’s permission. Though she did wonder what he would have done if it had been a crescent moon, which signified one’s race as a demon, noble and commoner alike.

But for now, all that mattered was that she had at last gained access to the fresh air outside. Standing on the terrace outside the building, Esme took a deep, deep breath. Already her dizziness was subsiding.

**********

(At this point, you felt the invisible shackles suddenly lifted from your body and soul, those fetters that had been weighing you down since you saw the heroine for the first time in this world.

You would have noticed that so far the events had proceeded just as they had in the game, with only slight differences. The main one being Ceryn’s tutorial never occurred. Instead, the heroine had stormed straight through this session, before escaping the hall the same way she always does in the game.)

 

[miki]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 1 - IVY SILVEAU

​

She had been hard pressed to convince herself this was all a dream. She had been binging a lot of transmigration novels recently, so perhaps her subconscious mind had molded to the change.

But everything was too perfect. She could differentiate the texture of cold granite and fine silk beneath her fingertips. She could hear voices ringing clearly, in coherent sentences. Her mind was hers, and she could draw sharp logic from the bouts of her panicked mind. Days were passing, the sun rose from the east and set in the west. She felt stuck in the present moment, instead of finding herself floating within a memory.

It was no dream. Upon thinking about it, it made sense. The shock from looking in the mirror alone should have been enough to rip her out of a coma.

Her cheeks smooth and cold like jade. Her skin plastered alabaster. Verdant eyes, two emeralds set into the recesses of her skull, crowned with a head full of raven black hair. It was not hers, certainly. She was filled with wonder until the moment a maid called her name.

Lady Ivy Silveau. It set in as gently as an anvil on her neck.

Ivy Silveau!? It was a masochist’s idea of a good transmigration plot. Thousands of scenarios flooded her mind: petty cruelty awarded with countless deaths. An agoraphobic’s worst nightmare, realized. Most importantly, to her, it was ringing, resounding tolling bells of the dead.

And so Ivy Silveau fell terribly ill for the next few days.

The first half of the day was genuine. She had fainted on the spot, after all. Her forehead’s temperature flamed irrevocably. Her body had turned weak and frail. She couldn’t even stomach bone broth, as the warmth that flooded her stomach only reminded her that in an instant, it could all be snatched away.

Then she caught wind of the time period. A week before she was to depart for Knight Academy with her elder brother, Aspen. A week before hundreds of death flags would be thrust at her, barely leaving a moment to dodge.

Her first gambit: Too sick and frail to go to scary Knight Academy! Wahh!!

She played ill in front of all of her maidservants. In front of them, she was too weak and sickly to even understand words.

The issue? The Silveau parents didn’t have much to say about their daughter’s ailments. After three days, it became clear they were sending her regardless. Something about how they just donated a building, sunk cost, and other various strings dragging her towards her grave.

She had to improvise. She needed a plan. Every good plan started with a blueprint, and Ivy Silveau had stacks upon stacks of empty notebooks she used to decorate her shelves. And yet, she was no fool. A journal that could be read was essentially handing a sea of toddlers a loaded gun. She had to cleverly disguise her musings if she wanted to be safe.

tbh ts rly fckd i wna kms; lemme lock in

hotd im #uno death fodder nd shit is abt to go down @ ka in haf a #1 victory royale

mc gna fck up da omegas / kung fu panda 9/11 2 electric boogaloo

da omegas = mii btw nd beeg nuhuhnono can i get outta ts fellas i < 3 livelaughlove

hv 2go w/ #treebrudda lowk gtn his ahh beat asf tragic ash can we uncook he. gna #bekind

bitchass will be there NOCONTACT NUCLEAR WASTE HELLNAH ima hazmat hisass

gotta lock in like actually ima be miss keisha if i don’t. w4tch ouu 4 koolaid, slytherins, h8rs, etc. yahooie

c4n i besties 4 tha resties with mc? tune in nxt week 2 find out

Four days until departure. She perked up and was magically cured of that ailment that had cursed her so soon to the start of the school year. She skimmed through every book she could get her hands on, trying to familiarize herself with the workings of her kingdom and dukedom. Not much learned—the Silveaus weren’t literary people. But she did find a map of Avalon.

Three days until departure. Her appearance was a real problem. There were rumors about her, no doubt. The easiest and quickest way to dispel them would be to look completely different than what perceptions whispered of her looks. Ivy took one look at the smoky tones of her makeup and dumped it. She went shopping for newer, brighter, friendlier hues. She freed her tight side ponytail from its position atop her head, and let her hair hang loosely from her shoulders. She fashioned some crow bones into her hair, crossing them to make them seem like cute clips. In this same sentiment, she put out an order to have her clothes tailored. Her current gowns and getups drew too much attention, of which was criminal for a doomed villainess. Her academy uniform was safe, but there was no avoiding Sunday strolls and extravagant galas.

Two days until departure. This one was pretty crafty, in her opinion: she had charitably taken the blame for one of Aspen’s misfortunes! One of her elder brothers had smashed an expensive vase to pieces. He mused on and on about how it was fine, since he would pin it on Aspen. So, at the integral moment, Ivy stepped in and took the blame in front of their parents! Said she wanted it as decor for her room, and accidently dropped it because it was just too heavy. She got no real punishment other than a slap on the wrist, of course. Left her siblings floored. He couldn’t despise her after such chivalry, right?

Ivy Silveau was on a roll!

One day until departure. She raced around the estate, and gathered everything she could think of to ensure her survival by a few more degrees. Charcoal from the fireplace, herbs from the gardens and kitchens, jewelry she could use for bargaining. Wrote in her journal some more: reminded her to become a better runner, swimmer, fighter…

Day of departure. She stood before her carriage, a leather crossbody bag filled with herbs nestled on her hip, back straight, ready to go.

Yet, despite all of this, she could practically hear the notes of Marche Funèbre with every step she took.

---

“Ivy of House Silveau,” Ivy greeted with a pearlescent smile, “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

It was only natural that people would swarm to her. Her family name alone came with visions of raining gold pieces. A new, fresh Silveau meant new, fresh potential to impress one’s name upon the gilded respects of the house.

She felt nauseous again.

Standing amidst the sea of students attending the opening ceremony, how could she feel anything but? In the original game, she knew what was coming. At least, two variations of it.

The original flavor of Ivy Silveau was so heartbroken that Beau Castello had ignored her as he stared at Esme that she needed a rush of dominance back. She had collected a crew of racist nobles and picked on a poor demon girl outside. Of which this new flavor wasn’t willing to do, thank you very much! She didn’t care, she didn’t hate demons, and she didn’t want to be known as a bully.

The issue came with the timeline. A looming death flag sat right there, in plain view.

If Ivy Silveau wasn’t picking on the demon girl, then the worst would befall the ceremony. They would be attacked by the Black Dawn. Sure, Ivy usually didn’t die in canon—because she would try to use someone else as canon fodder—but new Ivy would be responsible for her own survival. Correlation might not equal causation, but what was she supposed to think? There had to be a way for her to contort around both conditions. Hopefully.

First things first. The catalyst. She had kept track of Beau, ensuring that she would be close enough to him to reach his side if she had to. Ivy weaved through people, muttering apologies as she went to stand by his side. She followed his gaze, and within it, she saw tufts of pink hair poking out from the dull tones.

Ivy’s shoulders relaxed, as did her grip on the leather straps of her bag. For the first time this week, warmth filled her chest and dulled the frenzy. Esme Hydrangea, talking peacefully with Ceryn before her dizzy spell.

A small smile settled over her lips. Even if that face spelled her doom, it was comforting to see something so familiar.

Ivy turned to her childhood friend, inspecting his face. Even as she stood next to him, he didn’t even see her.

Good!

True to her indecipherable word, she sharply turned away. Goodbyes would be useless: he was too lost in his own world, anyways. It was lucky that she wasn’t forced to interact with him. She’d bust a vein trying to suppress past-written essays about his shoddy character.

She took a sharp breath in. If she was to do this right, she needed a head start. So right for the exit hallway she headed, alone.

Ivy made sure the sun on her crest was in plain view as she marched past the supervisor with a politely aggressive grin. Once past him however, she picked up the pace, nearly to a jog. Time was of the essence. The second her soles touched grass, she was already scanning around for that familiar CG. A cluster of teal-tinted trees and a patch of dirt, a girl with tiny horns at the center of it. Yet there was nothing that jogged her memory in view.

She walked further in. The only thing she could think to do was call out: “Hello?”

 

[. D O V E]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 1 - Ceryn Cresthall

​

She used to stand amidst flashing colors, her name echoed by roaring crowds. Lights flickering. Fans clamoring. Voice blasting throughout wide concert halls. A phoenix blazing through the sky, shooting for the sun like an inverse comet vaulting through the break of dawn. Every beat of her wings was a song for love, a cry for praise, a plea for adoration— all pushing her higher and higher until the warmth spread across her feathers. Higher. Higher! Until the heat licks at the roots of her quills, wash over her skin like a voracious sea of flames engulfing every fiber of her being. Until it seared. Until she looked down, mid-flight, and realized it was never some mythical fire pulsing from within. Simply her own feathers curling black at its edges, sparks and smoke trailing like splayed hands about to catch her.

It was only then, when it caught up and dragged her down, her feathers reduced to ashes as the sun continued to blaze afar, did she understand that she was never a creature of eternal flames. Just a bird on fire.

"...Ceryn?" A faraway voice called out as she hit rock-bottom, the cold ground almost comforting against her burnt back. As she laid there, she let her fingers brush against the cold surface, relieved to find that there was nowhere else to fall deeper into. “I need some fresh air, and maybe a breeze upon my skin.” It continued, each word like an approaching footstep that grew louder and louder until it rang beside her.

She knew that voice. A constant companion, a familiar face even though she was yet to open her eyes. Yes. Yes. She could make out that luminous face with faint blushes on both cheeks, like rose petals crushed against porcelain. The short hair of pastel pink that cascaded down to her shoulders, like the hail of cherry blossoms on the peak of spring. And those eyes of similar shade, wide and always glistening with a charming shimmer that just commanded attention. Yes. Of course, she knew her.

Ceryn opened her eyes, bright cerulean orbs focusing themselves on the very person in her mind. The woman whose shoes she has worn for countless of times until she has memorized its every worn-out crevice. The Heroine of the Damned.

In a snap, it all came back to her. Everything that unfolded the past week, the elephant in the room that she tried her best to disassociate from. Alas, no amount of pinching oneself or swatting off the hypothetical VR on her head has pulled her back to reality. Her reality, not this. This travesty of an Isekai novel that somehow forced someone like her to play the role of someone like Ceryn Cresthall, the blandest bitch of them all! No wonder the MC needed some fresh air. Lumped together with the Vice Principal's winding speech, the tedious background of grey, grey, and more grey, and the monotonous groaning of the swamp of students— even she would be pissed to spawn next to the textbook definition of vanilla after smashing 'X to skip the dialogue' a hundred times.

"Wait, TwinkleSparkle23- I mean... Esme! Wait, shoot, did I get that right?" Curses! That was the last name she bestowed upon the MC on her last playthrough. She really should get her shit together or else she might lose her opportunity to change her fate. But first things first, she has to make sure Esme stays in her line of sight, or well she stays in Esme's line of sight, for the considerable future. Yet, even that was proving itself to be a problem as the pink-haired was already sashaying away from her, disappearing into a thick pile of students like a needle dropped into a stack of hay.

"Shiii- fuck, put your big dummy ahhh out of my way..." The kind and gentle Ceryn plowed through the horde of students while muttering underneath her breathe, the vicious glares and comments filtered out by her narrowing brain. Robes rustling. Elbows bumping. Feet being stepped on. Like a blade cutting through silk, Ceryn made it past the NPC blockage and was ready to bolt it in search of TwinkleSparkle23 until a young man rudely stepped into her frame. By the looks of it, he was the supervisor who was just getting back to his station after escorting the protagonist outside the building where she'd make her first narrative-changing choice.

Had she not known better, Ceryn would be saying a lot of words to this fellow right now. Something like "Hey, get out of my way! You insignificant piece-of-shit who shares the same 3D model with 25% of the male population of this game! Do you even know who I am? If I don't get to Pinky Pie within 5 minutes and she makes a bad decision, I'll make sure you fade out of existence with me!" but alas, the dull shell of Ceryn was too thick even for her real brilliance to shine through. Thus, she must use her cards wisely.

"Please, please, please, you must let me through!" Cue the shimmering puppy dog eyes that barely translated through the thick lens of Ceryn's glasses. "My friend was terribly sick and I fear for her health!" She placed the back of her right hand against her forehead in a rather dramatic fashion. "She's been feeling lightheaded, and it kills me to think that she's all alone out there. What if she faints and hit her head against a rock? Oh dear, just thinking about it makes my heart hurt. My poor friend!" She sobbed, hands now drawing towards her mouth to stifle her gaslighting sobs.

She meant, come on! Esme wouldn't even know how to walk without Ceryn! In fact, how dare she skip her tutorial and cut off a portion of her already dwindling screen time? Did she know it was the one thing that made her special!? Why, that little shit...

"My heart is just swelling with concern!"

ATurei

 

[simj26]

Caterina Grimaldi de Alonso
The Patriarch

He still couldn't believe it. Every time he stared into a mirror, it was a different, yet familiar, face glaring back. Memories that weren't his filled his head, the perfection and strength that his body demanded of her servants coloured his old-fashioned values, and the imbalance from the strangeness of a woman's physique gave him phantom aches.

At the very least, she was physically fit. As expected of Caterina Grimaldi de Alonso. The horns, the pink hair, the grim determination in her eyes, those were familiar to him. She was a side character in Heroine of the Damned, a surprisingly complex visual novel he had happened upon during one of his visits to Animate. He couldn't finish the game properly, but managed to play to the end of one route, away from the eyes of his subordinates.

Still, the Patriarch found his new body and life a little more difficult to adjust to than climbing up the ranks of the clan. Too many people pampering her, too many eyes on her, too many demands, too many strange looks passed her way when he said something unbefitting of a noble. He was used to the noise from his underlings, the crass remarks and the leering at the hostesses from the club a few blocks down. Dinner with the Grimaldi family was different from a hotpot with the lads, and the sheer amount of different ways to eat food boggled the mind.

But it wasn't all bad. It had been a long time since he felt like he was in a family, a real one. The only strange feeling was that he was the daughter in this family.

He still hadn't gotten used to it. Even as time passed, even as he had gotten to know there were others like him here, he was still unsteady with Caterina's gait. He had tried to resume his daily exercises to keep her in shape, but there were some complications.

But here he was now, at the main event. This was the start of the VN. The opening. The Heroine was leaving the hall, as expected. She would encounter some bullies outside, and she would try to help, probably. As her sworn protector, beknownst to the Heroine or no, the Patriarch wasn't going to sit around in the hall and leave her be. He was going to help.

He glanced over at his companion, both a maid of the Grimaldi family, Charlotte, and another like him. She had expressed some worries over the intro, after both had revealed to each other their circumstances. A terrorist attack, or something like that. Something about a ‘Hard mode’ thing. He had never played that part of the game.

All he knew was that he had to protect the Heroine.

“I'm going after Heroine,” Caterina said simply to Charlotte. She rose from her seat and marched over to the exit where the Heroine had left from, and where the Heroine's best friend was now parked in front, obstructed by a supervisor. From where Caterina was, she could hear the girl express worry at her friend's health and status. Another ally for the group.

He didn't have time for this. “Out of the way,” she growled. The supervisor did not need a moon on a cape to know that she was a Demon. He didn't budge. “You obstruct Caterina Grimaldi de Alonso, heiress to the Grimaldus March. You would do well to get out of my way, now.”

The supervisor looked visibly worried, but attempted to stand firm.

Attempted.

Caterina shoved him out of the way, and took Ceryn's hand, barging through the doors and outside.

“Hurry up, girl.” Caterina tugged at her hand, practically dragging her along as they paced down the hallway. “Where the fuck's your friend?”

. D O V E
AzaleaWonderland
ATurei

 

[BriiAngelic]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 1 - Witch of Coppers, Orianna de Luca

​

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

She wondered just what god she pissed off to wind up isekaied into a traitorous commoner. This sucked ass. Given all the utter bullshit she had to deal with she deserved only the best not some shoddy half assed “misunderstood” gem. Yeah right. This idiot meatsack was locked into the WORST routes.

Oriana wasn’t a bad character per se but her routes were not her cup of tea. At best you wound up fighting a rival that didn’t even need to be one in the first place. Worse off, the worst route wound up with her dying in Esme’s arms. Yeah yeah some people were into the super tragic lesbians trope but fuck that. She had no intention of dying, much less for an npc.

Despite knowing so much about the game she never once expected that she would wake up before it. Living as this woman was awful. She figured that treason didn’t happen too quickly before the start but to wake up a week before and STILL BE LOCKED INTO TREASON. If she lived till the end of the plot it would be ALL thanks to her brilliance.

“Stupid stupid fucking idiotic opening. Hector better not be a problem.”

She had no interest in any of the men of this game. Hell her favorite wasn’t even a route! Where was her goddess, she wanted to see that beautiful charming graceful brat of a princess. She supposed if nothing else not being the usual Mc meant she was in the clear for going and making her ideal romance.

“Emiiiii. Ah where are you my goddess.”

Oh great, the plot was starting. She stared for a moment at the NPCs running through their silly little dialogue with no interest. Esme, or as she prefered to name her Ophelia, was running along in the background doing whatever it is NPCs did without a master. Emi was…. Where was she?

Perhaps because she was so solely focused on the princess she didn’t recognize how terribly out of character she was already making Oriana by not immediately looking for Durante. Still the plot must move on and her footsteps made her begin to fall into line as Oriana usually would slip away from the crowd in a move only mentioned in routes where her treason was revealed. As she crossed the crowd she saw people familiar to her eyes in the shadows nearby.

Fuck was she supposed to supply info? Did she do that? Would this perma lock her away from the princess of her dreams? The concern built until she saw them moving towards her and bolted in the opposite direction running until she hit a wall known as a person.

ATurei

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 1 - DENIAL​

Beautiful, all of them. Every face in the crowd radiated a sense of photogenic purity. Even amongst the blander students assembled within the hall, there wasn't a single one of them that she could call ugly. There was no room for ugliness within the halls of the Knight Academy, just as there was not within the whole of the world that contained it, save for when it was bestowed upon the worst, most foul villains of the land.

That was the sort of world this was. Otome. AAA. Dating Simulation. There were several lines of stink undulating above the pile of shit that was the root of the problem, and it didn't really matter which one she decided to blame that day. Her nose wrinkled, and she barely prevented her face from creasing into a scowl. If pretty people were supposed to be eye candy, then this was going to give her a toothache.

It was all saccharin. Chemical sweetness. Just the sight of her face in the mirror had been enough to make her hurl.

"Mistress!?"

"My lady!!??!?"

"Anastasia!"

And it had only gotten worse. Her face, her voice, the name being called into her ear and the memories in her head. None of them were hers, all of them crafted and planted into the world by the hands she hated the most. She could've sworn she'd seen the developer's logo fading into view as she'd blacked out. Anastasia Bourgogne had come down with a case of the vapors. That was the rumor which had circulated through Willowbrook's high society, though not much further than that. After a few days locked away in her chambers, she'd been right as rain and back to looking down through her nose at anyone whose net worth did not exceed her own.

noun: perdition
(in Christian theology) a state of eternal punishment and damnation into which a sinful and unrepentant person passes after death.​

That was the only expectation for this. While she hadn't been religious in life, it was transparent now that she'd lost Pascal's Wager. This was her punishment. For what, exactly, she wasn't sure, but it wasn't exactly offbeat with the rest of the sour assembly of events that had been her life. It had taken her a while to come to terms with that. A nightmare... A delusion... Even the idea that she'd developed a sudden case of schizophrenia had all been preferable alternatives to the idea that any of this was real. She'd already flirted with the idea of throwing away her life during her previous lifetime, and once the realization had set in that she wouldn't be waking up from this she'd come awfully close to discarding this second one immediately.

A ring of bandages lay wrapped tight around her neck, obscured by the deep, red velvet of her dress's collar. It was barely noticeable, but of course, the hawk-eyed harpies that composed the Knight Academy's noble ladies had noticed it anyway. She could see it in their eyes. Whether it was in the real world or this fantasy one, students were still students. Moving in gaggles and bound by their gossip. While in her gut she was fuming, she couldn't let it show.

Right now, she wasn't herself. She breathed in the memories that composed Anastasia Bourgogne, and breathed back out the icy, above-it-all composure that came with them. There were a few things she'd learned since waking up in this world, and the first had been that it was not running on a script. The only advantage she had in this world was her knowledge, all of it burned into the back of her eyelids from long nights of scornful reading. If she acted out of turn, then the butterfly effect was going to be in full swing, and that advantage was going to turn to ash.

Or rather, that was the idea, but it was already going up in smoke before her eyes. There were ripples in the crowd. A commotion long before there had meant to be any, even in the game's egregiously designed Hard Mode. Her gaze turned sharp, shearing through the crowd like a scythe through blades of grass in search of the source of the disturbance.

She hadn't even done anything, and the script was already starting to break.

...Was she not alone?

 

[Crimson Rose]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 1 -Princess Emiliana Zaelynn Amora Valesian aka "Emi"

​

Upon receiving the suggestion to play a video game, she could never have anticipated the adventure that awaited her. Initially, she imagined it would be a brief escape, a few hours of gaming before returning to her monotonous routine filled with work obligations. Her days were often punctuated by the frustrations of demanding customers and the occasional tantrum from children who were impatiently waiting for their chicken nuggets to be served.

Perhaps this was what her roommate meant by ‘working’ whenever they heard a knock at the door, a secret world that provided solace from the chaos of everyday life

Now she found herself transported to a bizarre and captivating universe that was far removed from her everyday life, and to be a princess of all things is wild. From being named something related to mustard and now being an actual Princess with a rather long name, that luckily came with an easy nickname. So immersive. Was she dead? Reincarnated? Or something like one of the many anime her roommate watched late at night in the living room while she was trying to sleep. Who knows.

Did she know of her character? Only vaguely from the bits she was shown when her roommate brought them to her or made her edit her videos. Oh, and from her research when she was tasked with creating her roommate's outfits. She knew that she could be quite a brat.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Emi settled into the luxurious carriage, adorned with golden details and a pristine white finish, she noticed it felt more spacious than the typical vehicle. The plush seats cradled her as comfortably as they could, and a single window, that offered little to no air flow framed by an abundance of curtains. Created a cocoon of privacy around her. Emiliana however really don't care much at all at this moment, from how flawed the design was

While she sat there, eagerly anticipating the moment the door would open, her fan gracefully but eagerly flapping about in her grasp to create a soothing breeze against the sweltering temperature inside this historic oven, made her question the logic behind designing a gown with so many layers.

Whose idea was this for royals, it made her feel fancy yes. Cute very much so. Absolutely an inconvenience though for everyday attire. Maybe she should take note of the outfit for when her roommate demands her next costume for her cons. Keep her off her back for a while after being pushed into this game.

Yet the weight of the princess gown felt like a cruel joke, with their numerous layers paired with heels that favored looks over comfort. She couldn't help but think that someone needed to open that door soon, as the heat was starting to make her a little bit irritable.

The weight of her gown had to have been a cruel joke, with its many layers combined accompanied by a pair of heels that favored looks over comfort over practicality. Oh, the layers made even her want to punch the window open with her fist. That would be quite rude though. Maybe she could find the real dress maker and make some mild suggestions. Of a few less layers so that she wouldn’t be roasting in this oven.

In fact, what was freaking taking so long! they’ve been sitting here for maybe ten minutes and have yet to move. They were clearly at their destination. Yet the door was still sealed, she would open it herself, but she was unsure of this world's customs.

She found herself silently glaring at the door wishing someone would open it soon, wiping her forehead with a cloth that was resting on the armrest to the seat. This heat was really beginning to test her patience.

Fortunately, one of her attendants came to her rescue and swinging the door open and declaring, "Princess, we’ve arrived," while offering a gloved hand to help her descend from the carriage steps. Ah the slight breeze felt nice.

“Ah, finally” Emiliana stood up cautiously, careful not to trip over the voluminous layers of her gown or risk twisting her ankle. With her fan now raised partially to shield her mouth, to prevent her from saying something potentially stupid. She made sure not to exert too much pressure when taking the attendant's hand to take the step down onto the ground, expressing her gratitude,

“Thank you for your service; you’ve done a wonderful job.” She spoke giving them a slight bow of her head. before surveying her environment, it was evident that whoever had driven the carriage did not park in a typical drop-off location. Seeing as the opulent carriage was deliberately stationed close to the entrance of the academy grounds, with the driver having skillfully arranged it to block a major pathway for those within the academy. It was truly terrible.

A nuisance for an average person trying to get around, and if the way it was parked wasn’t enough. The significant number of armored guards, standing still and creating a formidable barrier around her. Their presence added an air of authority and protection, surely added to the difficulty of getting around for not just any common goer or noble, but also for herself

It was quite an inconvenience for the average individual attempting to navigate through the area, especially given the way the carriage was parked. The presence of numerous armored guards, standing rigidly and forming an imposing wall around her, not only obstructed others but also created a minor dilemma for her; turning her head would only reveal a sea of metal.

Emi hadn’t even noticed when someone collided with one of her guards until one of them shouted “State your business!”



BriiAngelic

 

[AzaleaWonderland]

Main Scenario Quest
Turn 1 ~ Charlotte Doe

Charlotte pressed into her finger, feeling the bone before roughly rubbing it. The slight pain was enough to keep her from spiraling too far in her fear. The ceremony had begun but the words spoken were all garbled as she couldn’t take her eyes off that wall. She’d tried to enter campus earlier to set up anything in preparation, but it was almost like she was invisible to the guards… no, their eyes told her that she was more like an annoying bug who ought to be squashed. At the very least, she was assured by Caterina’s presence. Despite their otherworlder status, they still had power equivalent to the game ver. Caterina. And, if memory serves, Caterina was a rather strong ally to have. So, with them by Charlotte's side, she didn’t have to worry too terribly much.

That's when she heard their voice, “I'm going after Heroine.” Her head swiveled towards Caterina with a shocked expression as she saw her disappear from sight.

Charlotte let out a meek word of caution, “But, wait, the guards won’t let a demon through… and the event…” she sighed, knowing it was useless. The girl brought her nails to her lips, biting them as her mind raced. Her magic could help a bit, sure, but her spells and mana pool are far too weak to make any dent in the possible demon attack. Her feet started to tap against the floor with a motorist rhythm. Tap, tap, tap, tap …

A voice broke her rhythm, “Tsk, quit that incessant tapping you filthy demon before I make you,” a student with a sun adorning their uniform berated her, their words were filled with vitriol. She forced herself to quell the tapping, now switching to pulling on her fingers to keep herself sane. Charlotte hadn’t realized how widespread general disgust for demons reached while she played the game's routes originally. Of course, that’s what happens when you limit yourself to only the ‘good’ routes. She knew of bullying and what not, conceptually, but it’s a whole other thing to experience it first hand.

She glanced towards the door leading outside. If she could leave, maybe she could draw the heroine’s attention by being really loud? She was a demon after all, so she’d technically fit the role. The thought of locking the heroine outside crossed her mind. But, if the flag was triggered not by the heroine’s location but rather their choice, that’d surely end up causing the deaths of a few students, and Charlotte wanted anything BUT death. The girl couldn’t stand the sight of any death in her previous life, always on the edge of tears whenever she saw a dead animal on the streets. Shaking her head, Charlotte could barely handle it when they were NPCs, but now that it’s real… the stakes were just too high.

Maybe, if she found a noble with a favorable opinion of demons among the crowd, she could ask them to help her escape. Reaching on her tippie toes, Charlotte peaked over the sea of heads. The first she noticed was Anastasia Bourgogne. Nope. No way. If Charlotte attempted to ask that woman for a favor, she'd likely never get off her bad side thanks to Charlotte's commoner blood. She then saw another girl leaving the ceremony early. Charlotte groaned, realizing that one was probably her best chance gone with the wind.



Then Charlotte spotted the green hair of Oriana De Luca rushing through the crowd. Ori was a difficult obstacle for Charlotte, she remembered resetting a handful of times after she revealed too many of Ori’s crimes, causing her to get executed. Ori definitely had a favorable opinion of demons given her childhood friend, though she was no noble. But, still, a commoner with strong magic might sway a teacher to grant permission. Charlotte started her way through the sea of students until she heard a crash followed by a loud authoritative shout, “State your business!”


Charlotte winced as she looked over to see Oriana had collided with the princesses guard. She sighed as her best chance out went up in flames… Charlotte wondered if she should step in to aid Oriana, but a demons presence would only serve to earn more scorn from such guards.

Fine then, she decided she would not just stand around. Even if it gets her into a little bit of trouble… surely they'll forget about it if a bunch of demons bash into the event.

Charlotte made her way to the far wall she remembered crumbling to give way to the demon forces. She wasn't sure if this would help but it was the best chance she had. Plus, if she was caught she could say she simply messed up creating a single ice cube to cool herself down. Along the wall, Charlotte began creating ice cubes, maybe tripping the potential enemy up whenever they rushed in. Then she heard the clattering of a guard's armor getting closer, a chill ran up her spine as she took a peak behind her. Oh my, they sure were close. Charlotte quickly attempted to make herself scarce, trying to enter and disappear into the crowd of students.

 

[ATurei]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 2 - THE HEROINE
​

The Hall's Side Entrance​

The aftermaths of humiliation and stinging shame were still visible on the guard long after the marquess’ daughter had disappeared down the hallway. In a clumsy effort to salvage what morsel of dignity could still be possibly retained, he had managed to hold off the commoner girl just as the other disappeared round a corner. Upon this small triumph he forced the girl back and began to dust down his mantle, pretending that all was yet within his control.

The whole act did not reach all the way to his face, which was a mask of shame and anger. He glared down the vacated hallway, towards the lit corner where a passage opened to the plaza outside the castle. The passing shadow of that girl half his age, who in the process of storming off had pushed him aside like a dumb and mute piece of furniture. He could have abandoned his post and this consolation prize in the commoner to chase after her. And he could have given a talking-to about manners and respect for one’s elder, not least of a demon’s place in the post-war world. All that he could have done, or would have, if he hadn’t valued his life. For all a man’s pride, he had a family waiting for him back home, and would require his head attached to the rest of him to provide for them.

Because demon or not, and insolent teenager or not, that one was a right noble. Even without a soldier's habitual fear for anything of noblekind, Caterina de Grimaldi was of the few even a guard could recognize by appearance: the Marquess’ daughter, perhaps the one demon in the whole Academy one would not touch. And so he must swallow his pride and digest it whole.

And no stranger was he or any man in the barrack to disparaging treatment from the students, entitled brats who had not even yet inherited their parents’ titles. He could endure it yet, but the sore was terrible nonetheless. At that moment he could only think of his boy’s face, when the child had asked with a beaming face what it was like to be a livered guard. ‘Twas the most honorable post, he had told his boy, to protect the kingdom’s future knights before they could grow to protect themselves and us all. Such gilded words to be boastfully passed along to the boy’s playmates. But would that he could see him now, or any given day in this glamorous Academy, spat on and ridiculed by barely-adults who had never done a day’s work in their lives.

And so when he turned to the bespectacled girl whose pleas had even then not ceased, it was with a face clouded over and gritted teeth.

“No!” the guard growled, banging the butt of his spear on the flagstone. The clang echoed throughout the hallway like a final and irrevocable sentence of life itself. “Back inside, now!”

(Cont.)
. D O V E

Inside the Hall​

“Damn demon brat!” The supervisor hissed as he snatched at the girl’s cape, dragging her back from her escape. Mindful of the still-going-on speech, he hauled Charlotte bodily to a far corner, just outside of the official’s earshot and line of sight.

He dropped the girl unceremoniously at the corner, and wasted no time to produce from under his cloak a baton. It was a thin device, soft and flexible that could have acted like a whip if it was at least twice as long. As is, it was little more than a wand in his hand. But a baton nonetheless was its usage, which even as Charlotte looked on was cracking magically as the thing thickened and thorns, sharp as needles, began to grow on its length. The supervisor himself was a lanky man, with a mustache that made him seem older than his age. But nothing could hide the cruelty fueled with nervousness in his voice.

“Do you mean to cause trouble, demon?! What did you do there yonder with the wall?” he spoke quickly, stumbling over words as he hovered the baton dangerously over her, as though fearing the girl would reveal a deathly curse any second now. “A prank? Or worse, harm to the students? Do you work on someone’s behalf? Speak!”

The ruckus was being handled subtly enough, but the way the supervisor had dragged the demon girl away had not escaped every student’s notice. Nor had the hint of malice in the supervisor’s eyes gone unnoticed by a certain young man.

“What is that man doing?” he muttered under his breath. But it was more to himself than to his sister next to him. On the surface, the hard features of the young man betrayed little emotion, as was his wont. And yet even as his stony expression moved not, he strode at once away with the haste not of someone uncaring.

Yulian Bourgogne found the two in the corner, less like a supervisor and a student than a torturer and his victim.

When the mustached man turned and found Yulian approaching, he saw a student who carried himself as anything but. Who stood tall like a lord, seemingly mature beyond his years, and whose gait firm like a sculpture. His mouth pressed thin once he had put the question to the man’s purpose.

“I’m merely performing my duty,” the supervisor said warily. He had not been able to tell the young man’s stature from the sun badge on his cloak. He could be anywhere from the son of a baron to a duke’s. And from Yulian’s demeanor, it looked more likely the latter than not.

“If it be pranks,” Yulian said in an even tone, but which grew stern as he spoke, “then the situation hardly demands violent queries. Of the girl’s motives, you know not, yet you brandish a weapon before a student under the protection of His Majesty the High King as though she was a convict! Who gave you the jurisdiction, man? By the laws of the land, I charge you with violating the King’s peace do you refuse to drop your weapon right this instant!” And to give action to his intent, the student stretched his arm, palm downwards--the combatant’s stance for a spell.

“Of course, sir.” The thorny baton disappeared into the dark of the mustached man’s cloak. He was now wholly convinced the young man was at the least the son of a powerful duke, like to be the Marquess’s son down south, Durante De Luca, reputed for his nasty and warlike personality. “As I said, I merely wish to observe my sacred duty, only in my eagerness do I...”

Yulian cut him off with a gesture. He was already turning to Charlotte. “But what say you, girl? Neither what I said nor this man’s wrongful behaviors excuse whatever pranks you committed, and though not with violence, what offense you caused ought to be treated according to the Academy’s regulations. So think your answer well!”

Spoiler: Yulian

Yulian: the honorable and stoic love interest, who’s also Anastasia’s brother. His leadership and political abilities and stats are top-notch among the love interests, but is only average in combat. All of his routes are strictly Lawful aligned.

The One Eyed Bandit AzaleaWonderland

Inside the Hall -> Side Entrace​

The real Durante de Luca, of course, was at the time growing bored within the drab ranks of students, and would not on pain of death intervene to defend a helpless student for justice and honor’s sake. He was too busy pulling on the stuffy collar of his uniform like a warhound restless in an unwonted leash. He resented the cape, the gray-blue hue, and the whole assembly of pathetic rabble whom they called the future nobles of the land. Ceremony and prettiness, he resented it all. In the stories of old, and Durante loved stories like these, warriors would set out to fight their way to power, trading indignities for glorious deeds. Not by ceremony. Not speech and shakes of hands! What he wouldn’t give to test his spells on one of those students next to him, who were even now shrinking away from him for fear.

But such was the dispiriting effect of the morning’s ceremony that Durante couldn’t even get his appetite up for the scant entertainment that could provide. No, he craved higher entertainment. And right then, the toy presented itself.

The starling flew from the thickets, green tresses painted on a sea of gray. The sight of which had grown familiar to Durante in recent months. Ever the busy bird, sneaking around, thinking naught would notice. Yet, until now Durante had left her alone well enough, out of respect for his father’s command. They were in the Academy now, and many things the worse never escaped these dark walls, or so they said. What’s a little larking with the lass?

He began to shove his way through the crowd, then thought better of it. This called for stealth, if nothing else. The girl was scurrying around like a headless roach. Perhaps he could give her a scare? Sure, sounds fine enough. And he was off strutting.

Keeping an eye on the starling, he hugged the wall on the far side of the hall, making a show of going on a stroll, and who would stop him? The ceremony was not exactly a quiet show anymore, people were going about, and the students had given to chatting between themselves, the vice principal having been lost so deep within his own world that he could scarce notice the disorder around that grew like a plague in the student body.

He approached the corner of the hall with the grace of a lion on padded paws, hiding its claws. Then he was distracted. Someone was shouting outside. He poked his head around the corner.

“Back away now, or I’ll spear you through!” a liveried guard was shouting.

Weathering the storm of unchecked spits was a girl in glasses, who was still persistently begging to be released from the hall.

This went on for a minute, one side growing incensed and the other desperate. Durante was drawn in by the hilarity and awkwardness of it, and had soon forgotten his original purpose.

Like the devil’s shadow, he sneaked up on the girl, and was marked by the guard. He was a head taller than her, of course, and a frame imposing as to make her a little deerling.

He had to lean way down to lower his head to the girl’s level, and almost whispered directly into her ears. “Worried for a friend, hm?” His voice was sweet, like the nectar of a venus flytrap.

Then he drew back, allowing the girl time to comprehend his presence, and was laughing. “ ‘Twas precious, I say! Move me almost to tears, it did! And what kind of man would call himself one and fail to oblige such a precious friendship, eh?” cackled he, “but yond man has a point, forsooth, shameless rascals these days would not scruple from a bald-faced lie to play truant, you know. So how about we put your loyalty to a test, hm?”

He drew back further, and thrust a leg out, now lifting the toe of his shoe. Cerulean, cruel eyes narrowed on Ceryn. Durante was a handsome man, and his was a handsome smile, but one could almost see the proverbial fangs baring behind that dashing smile. His malice was as plain to beholders as his. “Tell you what, girl, do you prove that loyalty to a friend, I’ll stake my honor to make this man allow you through. And surely a bit of shame is nothing to a friend’s perils, eh? Then come, girl, kneel and lick my sole.”

Spoiler: Durante

Durante: the warlike and sadistic love interest. “I can fix him” kind of character. Except he is never quite fixed throughout the course of the game. May be found fighting on the heroine’s side against the demons, or on her side against humans, or against the heroine on the demons’ side, or against her on the humans’ side, can even be on no one’s side and still fighting one way or another. Boasts the greatest combat abilities in the game, on par with Caterina and only loses out to Hector because of Dark Magic. All of his routes are Chaotic.

BriiAngelic . D O V E

The Hall's Main Entrance​

What Durante de Luca missed, albeit of a less entertaining nature, was the eventual destination of Oriana and consequently the crown princess’ entrance. Having arrived fashionably late, and in her own fashion, layered dress instead of the perfunctory uniform, she came through the main entrance.

The enormous doors that had locked the students within the hall willingly yielded to the crown princess of the Kingdom of Avalon. And along she brought numbers fit for war. This, of course, drew the attention of every person in the hall who was not otherwise occupied by their own entertainment. It did not help that Oriana, a commoner, had caused a scene right then by running into one of the princess’s guards. Gasps of disapproval echoed through the hall, and many were staring, but no one was worrying. The princess, known for her humility and generosity, was not one to punish such an offense. That she was royalty, though, remained a fact. And while the offender would not be whipped, attention of the unfavorable kind was to be expected, should she fail to treat the event with adequate tact.

It was, one felt, fortunate for her, that a friend had arrived for her rescue.

Hector Ravensburg, as he was then known, emerged from the crowd like a ghost out of a crypt, as subtle in presence as he was remarkable in aura. The same uniform as with every other student, yet with the oddly straight collar, ironed folds, long hair swept back, and a penetrating gaze that was always held a beat too long, constituted something that was just different enough to stand out, but not loud. His gait was straight, but unlike Yulian, there was something easy about it, something that was born out of confidence, not discipline. And a smile was often quick on his face, but always mirthless. It was not easy to place one’s first impression on the man. In fact, one could be tempted to render him trust, on account of his friendly demeanor and a refreshing frankness. Yet, simultaneously it felt right to be wary, to choose one’s words with care and refrain from lies when interacting with him, in the same manner one treats a god who is generous but not wholly benevolent.

It was with this easy smile and a deep bow that he greeted the Crown Princess Emiliana. “Pardon my friend’s imprudence, Your Royal Highness. I assure you she meant no offense, the day’s solemnity has been unkind to her nerves. That is why,...” Standing next to Oriana, he placed a courteous hand on her shoulder as if to calm a friend’s distress. Only the cold and hard grip was tightening, subtle to beholders but keen to the victim, through which a message fully conveyed of suspicion, mistrust, cautions, threats, and, ultimately, a warning. Why had you come this way, Orinana, it seemed to say to her and her alone. What was it that you sought to inform this royally woman? And do you really feel advisable to do so? Think twice. And the minuscule draining effect of dark magic issued from his palm related the rest of what the girl must know.

“That is why,” he continued evenly, still voice laced with concerns, “I entreat you, Your Royal Highness, license her leave so in solitude this poor girl might find treatment for her nervousness. And ‘twould be a mercy to spare her at once from further disquiet and questioning, if you please.”

Spoiler: Hector

Hector: the manipulative and often creepy love interest. Last boss on multiple routes. Surprisingly, can actually be fixed, or at least made to be less cruel and sadistic. Top the chart in all kinds of stats, political, intrigue, combat, leadership, etc. He’s also Caterina’s brother, but is using a fake identity and attending the academy in the guise of a human commoner. All of his routes are strictly Chaotic aligned.

Crimson Rose BriiAngelic

The Plaza between the Castle and the Forest​

Esme was standing at the edge of the plaza, just shy of the roofed veranda outside the castle’s main hall. She had decided to take a walk and had rounded to the castle’s front. Which had ground plenty for the morning assembly of the cavalry and students’ practice at other times in the day. There was neither assembly nor practice session today, of course. What with it being the day of the opening ceremony. This was also the first time Esme had managed a look at the full landscape of the castle’s front. Dimly in the distance was the treeline that marked the beginning of a sparse forest, which, it was evident, had once extended all the way to the castle’s main gate. Such was the old practice that sitting on their throne capped by darkness, it is told, that the old lords would stare out at the old forests populated by silhouettes and other strange things imprinted in the dusk.

The plaza had been laid with stone but showed a marked difference from the flat rock foundation the castle had been built on. It was said that demons of old had liked to build their seats of power in locations with unique geological formations. Especially on such outcrop protruding unwontedly from the earth while close to the more fertile volcanic soil, so that their fortress could be as close as possible in the vicinity of the old darkness. According to the old lore, Lian was born to Miasma in the depths of the woods, and was the first to be given the gift of healing by him, even now still found in the strange herbs of yet unstudied properties, deep in the lowest layer of overgrown ancient forests. How curious then that there was a time when Lian was the physicians’ goddess. Yet upon the unification of Miasma and Eisar, where the former offered the gift of healing in exchange for his love and a home in ocean depths, that healing magics came under the purview of the Lord of the Seas...

Esme shook her head. She was exercising that habit of losing herself in the realm of her old thoughts again. Or rather the realm of those dusty old books she had spent her life studying in the abbey’s confines. In a world without color it was with her own painted pictures and imagination, daydreams of the outside and colorful pasts that she had kept her heart alive. But that was hardly necessary now, wasn’t it? This was the real world. Yond forest a real forest. And all the people, all the colors, all the real stories that were not ones only gleaned through written, unchanging words. Get ahold of yourself, Esme! Enjoy it!

She smiled. It hadn’t been too bad to have been hit by that dizzy spell after all. Thanks to it she had earned an excuse to actually get out here and look around. Otherwise she would have still been standing in the hall listening to droning-on words, which was not exactly the kind of experience she had been dreaming about since Count Valeria at her childhood’s home to demand an audience with the Abbess...

Well, now, what to see first. She would like, of course, to confirm with her old eyes whether it was true that from a view directly north the three tallest towers of the castle would perfectly align to form a trident’s three evenly spaced prongs.

And as she did this, absent-mindedly walking with her eyes lifted far from the ground towards the tallest peaks of the castle, a fast-approaching figure pulled her down. It took her by surprise and shamed her. For she must have looked quite silly walking and spacing out like that. And she felt that she would surely be reprimanded for not getting back inside the hall quickly enough.

The person, however, appeared to be a student on the second glance, being in the Academy uniform, and, by the look of her horns, a demon.

Esme did not think this demon had any business with her in particular. In fact, she had not seen, much less known, a single demon in her life until the past week when she was delivered to the Academy by the Count. They were, obviously, not admitted into hallowed grounds these days other than the Temples strictly for worship. Dwellings exclusive to the priesthood, such as the Abbey of St. Hydrangea, were forbidden to them.

But here was one in the flesh coming for her. She turned to confirm there was no one else behind her that the demon might be walking towards instead. Sure enough, the plaza was plenty, most of the Academy’s staff and students having gathered in the main hall at the time.

There was a ruckus at the main entrance, where a carriage had arrived with some armored men, but that was far enough away, and in the opposite direction of her and where the demon was headed. So couldn’t be it either.

“How may I help you, ma’am,” Esme shrank a little from fear. The moon on the girl’s bow did not tell her whether she was a noble or not. But she must be, judging from her carriage. Even though it was a bit different from the manner of the nobles she had seen, a bit awkward, possibly. But that could easily be the difference between human and demon customs.

And there was the fault of relying too much on written knowledge, which was more often than not outdated. Considering the political landscape of the land nowadays, it would not be a great surprise there had been new ways to offend a demon that had not been recorded in decades-old books. And did she not just now glaring quite brazenly at the long effaced marks of old demonic marks within the castle?

She swallowed. The demon that was coming sure looked angry enough, or distressed, she could not quite tell. She was more used to pictures and low hoods than actual human faces, let alone demonic ones.

simj26

Outside the Forest​

“And so I no sooner opened the carriage’s door,” chirped one Peggy Piccalilli, “than the gentleman was there yonder beside the tramp, and everyone was gawking, see, for what a clamor the horses made. Even the driver, plump Barry, you know him, Maggie, since last you were at the house, was holding his whip, like, ha,” she held up an arm illustratively, “suspended like one struck by the old gods. And so on and so forth, much talking, blaming, and fretting as you know is the tedious way of our lordlings and priests-in-learning. But I wasn’t listening to any, of course, for all I saw in that moment was his handsome face, bright like lamplight, and features as the poets oft describe as the grace of Eisar gleaned from the Fair Fountain’s refracted rays.... eyes moist like grapefruits...or something or another, well, you know how it goes.”

“I know how it goes,” said Maggie Marmite, striding abreast of her lady friend. One of her arms hooked onto that of the girl next to her, “but you have not told me his name. For the young man seemed to carry himself like a right gentleman, and certainly could not be one of those landless vagabonds. Why, a knight-errant would sooner sell that ornate hilt before dinner, if he wanted any. And between my moral judgment and the national sentimentality I would say no proper knight should stoop so low as to help a commoner, but certainly one’s got to keep up one’s appearances...”

“I was talking,” Peggy interrupted, “and you were asking his name. Of which I haven’t the first idea. For no sooner than he had righted the girl and dusted down her dirty cloak did the young gallant disappear from sight, he was like the Don from Anthology of the Night, you know how it goes.”

“I know how it goes, Peggy, and ‘tis hardly proper to refer to such vulgar books as that. Why, it’s unbecoming for a lady to tolerate the notion of them, much less to study their foul contents. Incidentally, have you purchased last month’s issue? They told me the copies were sold out in a matter of hours!”

“That I did, you wouldn’t believe--Oi, quit struggling!”

Peggy yanked at the arm of the girl next to her, who had scented the faintest opportunity to escape and had tried to slip away but could not. The girl was smaller than both, arms so thin they were like to break under the firm grips of her escorts. Her face was pale of fright and bent really low. Her hair, a smooth curtain of the night’s color, fell over her features and hid the welling tears. But what she truly wanted to conceal she could not: the pointy tips of her ears which struck out like an invitation for damnation.

The general appearance was that of these ladies on a morning stroll, while holding a pet dog on a short leash. Once the demon girl stopped struggling, Peggy breathed in the forest’s fresh air, and once her lungs were filled, let out a merry laugh. It was a fine day with fine weather, with much fun to be had.

“Why, isn’t it the Lady Silveau,” Peggy suddenly paused in her track, having seen the approach of an acquaintance.

“I see you are bored also of the lecture,” Maggie said, accompanying her words with a slight bow, while still maintaining a firm grip on the victim. “As for us, we already learned from last year that there was no point in attending the ceremony.”

“The folk so many you wouldn’t stand out in the drab uniform!” Peggy agreed.

Both Peggy and Maggie were second-year students, but as both baronesses to be, they had given Ivy Silveau, the daughter of a duke, the proper deference.

“Oh, this?” Maggie looked at the girl sandwiched between her and her friend, as though, inexplicably, she had just noticed an article absent-mindedly brought along in a hurry when she left her home. “Just something we collected just now for recreation. Would you care to join us maybe? I’m sure a fine lady such as yourself would have ideas in abundance for a clever pastime.”

miki

 

[AzaleaWonderland]

Main Scenario Quest
Turn 1 ~ Charlotte Doe​

“Eek!” Charlotte exclaimed as she felt her cape snag her escape. Her head watched the ground as she was placed into the corner, she could feel her chest tightening with anxiety. The question of why she couldn't have come up with a plan that wouldn't draw so much ire ran through her mind on loop. Once her eyes looked up towards the supervisor, they went wide as she saw the baton in his hand and as the thorns started to sprout, she could feel her body tremble. Charlotte fell to her knees. Physical pain was always something she shied away from in her past life, most definitely she’d never been beaten, the thought of what would soon follow was far too much. She turned her head away, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth.

With every shout the supervisor felt bigger, scarier. She’d intended on answering his fiery questions, but her voice was lost. All that came out from her lips was a dry breath, all the words which filled it having been trapped within her throat. This was no good… no good at all. What good was an excuse when the voice to speak such completely fails? The most she could manage was a quiet “sorry,” likely not even audible through the supervisor’s yelling. At this point, she could reason her own fate. Without any quick wit, she could only resign herself to it. Clasping her hand over her mouth in hopes of muffling any pained noises she emits, Charlotte prepared for the thorns to claw into her.

Yet no such thing happened, instead she heard a voice stern like a sturdy oak. His interruption made Charlotte’s heart skip a beat. His words weren’t comforting, but they allowed solace compared to the supervisor's viscous remarks. Yulian was one of her favorites from her previous playthroughs thanks to his strict lawful path. He then turned his attention to Charlotte, asking her to speak. For a moment, no words escaped her mouth, not due to fear this time but due to admiration. Seeing a fictional character she’d spent so long with in the game in front of her was surreal. A rude comment from the supervisor snapped her back, “Well, you were told to speak.”

Her back stiffened up as she considered her options. She wondered if she should lean on their bias and claim she was doing a prank. But, as she looked towards Yulian, part of her wanted to salvage her image in front of the gentleman. If she wanted to get through this with her story, she’d have to show as much respect as possible. Bending all the way to the ground, nose to the floor was when she began to speak. “First, I must apologize for all this trouble. As for what transpired… it was getting rather heated between all the students, I tried moving to the wall, and,” she took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaken heart, “My brain must’ve been a bit fried from being overheated, so I decided it was prudent to cast a small spell to conjure an ice cube to chew on. Of course, I should not have been casting spells in the first place and I will accept all punishment for my impertinence at that moment. Unfortunately, the spell created far more than I intended, causing the mess you can see for yourself.” Charlotte gestured over towards the wall. While she was paused, she stole a glance at Yulian’s face. Unfortunately, it didn’t display any indicators to tell her if he was believing her or not. “And I’d be remiss if I didn’t apologize from trying to hide away earlier, I was so embarrassed, my flight response triggered…”

“I accept any punishment you see fit. However, I would never do something to cause the students at this school harm.” Charlotte paused, wondering if she should simply stop here. Yet, something willed her to continue speaking. “I cannot stand the sight of people in pain, and I don't ever want to be able to.” Her hands clenched against the floor, digging into it as a water drop fell from her cheek. Her brow slanted inward and a frown came upon her as her eyes looked dull, watching one of the old tattered memories she had hold of. Once she returned too her senses, she looked towards Yulian to make one plea. “... On that note, if you would allow, I would find myself responsible to discreetly warn the students to keep distance from the affected area to avoid anyone slipping. And as I am responsible for creating it, I humbly ask to be the one to clean it up. Then, any punishment for the rules I’ve broken.”

Charlotte prepared herself for beratment for asking anything in her situation. She hadn’t noticed how badly she’d been shaking till now… hopefully they don’t think that a sign of her deception. All she could do is pray they felt generous.

ATurei

 

[simj26]

Caterina Grimaldi de Alonso
The Patriarch

The other girl had disappeared from her grip, and it took him several minutes of wandering around the outside of the castle before he realised he was talking to no one. At the very least, no one was there to see him babbling to the wind, and subsequently punching a nearby wall in quiet shame. At least he didn't have to drag along what could be a liability to find the Heroine. But that was her best friend. It would have been easier to approach the Heroine with a friend in tow. Alas, it was all a little too late, and very much too little. She caught sight of the Heroine's lone figure upon the edge of a veranda at the castlefront. She quickened her pace.

“Oi, girl, you shouldn’t be–” Caterina halted, cleared her throat, then lowered her head slightly in a weak bow. “Apologies for my candor, but you shouldn’t be wanderin’ around alone like this. I know the ceremony’s a stuffy business, but at least wander with an extra eyes on yer back.” The attempt to sound noble had started to mingle with his natural speaking patterns. He couldn’t scare her off with his usual gruffness, but he couldn’t stick with the way that Charlotte had taught him, or the way that Caterina naturally spoke. She was a different kind of rough.

The Heroine was a fragile thing, at least for now. She needed some more days in this academy under her belt before she could toughen up, at least from his experience. There would be time yet for Caterina to sharpen her against the whetstone, but that time wasn’t now. Charlotte had warned him beforehand of things that might happen, but where they were standing now, in front of the castle, it seemed as if the narrative had changed a little. If he remembered right, she was supposed to be confronting some bullies right now, but here she was, drawn by the castle’s foundations.

Caterina approached, her blazer, draped over her shoulders, billowing behind her in the breeze. “You alright, girl?” She asked, then reached out a hand. “S– Caterina Grimaldi de Alonso. Put ‘er there.” She grinned, her expression a little lopsided- too many years of chewing on a cigar. “Laughter shared is joy doubled. Worry shared is sorrow halved. Have ya heard that one?”

ATurei

 

[BriiAngelic]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 2 - Witch of Coppers, Orianna de Luca

​

What the fuck. God she was slipping up. How was she supposed to chase her ideal ending if she kept throwing in new factors to consider? She knew it well enough on how to slip away relatively unnoticed but then she had to go and run into guards. Great.

If all went well she’d still be able to spin this into a net positive for herself. It’s not like she could start the epic of her love story of seducing the princess without actually getting herself noticed anyways. The journey of one thousand steps started with one big risk. Besides, she wanted to see that cutie red from head to toe.

In fact she was so ready for it that she forgot she was a goddamn commoner in this damn universe. UNFAIR! Her epic sapphic saga couldn’t start if everyone was looking at her like scum under their own shoes. She bit her lip ready to snap at them all and go try to run into her Emi’s arms but was stopped by a familiar loser.

Goddamn Hector!

She could sympathize with his background and even agreed that he was cute enough with good chemistry with several of the characters, at least enough to be a fan favorite, but still he was one of the biggest obstacles to her goddess’s survival.

She let out a small sigh without thinking much about her casual break to Orianna’s usual attitude as Ophelia’s bias took over. She wanted to just get a glance upon that sweet and childish face of her Emi. She relaxed a bit under the unwanted touch playing into what the crowd expected. The sap of the dark magic was a warning but not one she cared for. Part of her wondered if she’d reroll her isekai stats better if she just let herself be sniped by Hector but she didn’t want to risk living a life without her queen in it.

“My greatest apologies Your Highness Emi. I meant no disrespect upon you I merely wished to gaze upon your lovely visage.”

She began to speak intending to try to get back into the character of Orianna but couldn’t help but fall into her own speech. Ophelia haunted her every turn as her past life self screamed to bury her face in the beautiful princesses’ chest. God what a shit otome game this was when she could even wife up the most beautiful character in the game. Fuck the fact that the heroine was technically her half sister, since when had an otome ever cared about that anyways.

Damn she really wished Heroine of the Damned would up their content rating. Just make it AO rating already, she was begging. Her thoughts slipped out as she muttered low in a voice so barely noticeable.

“Beautiful… so beautiful.”

ATurei Crimson Rose

 

[miki]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 2 - IVY SILVEAU

​

In her head, her vague notions of a plan had been so innocently simple. To charge in, point a finger, accusatory towards the shameless bullies! Denounce them with her immense social power! In her fantasy, it would be time to solidify herself as a good egg! Worthy of sitting in the heroine’s basket!

Yet she found herself unwilling to move, or even utter a word. Lest she forget the original Ivy Silveau hadn’t exclusively died at the heroine’s hand—She was certain that the old inhabitant of her body had found herself impaled at the end of blades hired by each of the girls before her.

Or worse: trying to start things before the heroine showed up. Taking the place of the heroine in this tutorial was the last thing she wanted, yet the clock was ticking. Where was she!?

She found herself plopped atop a metaphysical chessboard. Her, the impossible grey pawn, faced with other pawns of contrasting monochrome. If she stepped two paces above her rank, she’d cross the nobles, and draw the ire of allies that had been handed directly to her. If she rejected their request, an antisocial reputation could begin to trail behind her. If she joined, then she’d find herself opposite of the most powerful young woman this world would ever see.

Without the king to call out her next move, what was she to do?

The analogy was starting to grate on her. The only point that mattered was she was in a very, terribly, no-good spot.

All this panic was masked by a well timed clearing of the throat, her fist barely covering her warbling lips. Note to self: Invest in a folding fan for covering extreme expressions.

Within the chaos of possibilities, there was only one move to take: a new, innovative technique.

Floundering.

“Well met, madams!” She quickly bent a knee behind the other leg. “Dreadfully thick air in there, isn’t there? I could hardly breathe with how much dust the headmaster’s tomes produced with every turn of the page. I feared I’d run out of air in such a room.”

She turned to the poor demon girl wallowing on the ground. “What manner of game is this? I can’t say I’m familiar. Though, it reminds me of an old one I used to play with a dear cousin of mine. You remember the young lady Chrysanthemum, yes? We both adored watching our elder siblings participate in equestrian endeavors, so we would take turns pretending to be horses for each other. Once, we had a small series of obstacles constructed in a ring to simulate a real competition. It was my favorite pastime, even thinking on it now. Though, I admit, I frequently experience aches in my lower back, despite the innumerable amount of salves my maidservants produce for me… I fear they may be connected. But such things are worth it for such joy amongst close friends, don’t you think?”

She flashed an adorably earnest grin, but a smirk hid inside her. Nobody can hold a grudge against an idiot! I WIN!

 

[. D O V E]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 2 - Ceryn Cresthall

​

Words spilled out of Ceryn's mouth like waves crashing against a rocky cliff, each plea weathering the stone until cracks formed and fire oozed out. "Please! You have to let me through!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as her eyes stilled on the unmoving supervisor, his face hot with the pyres of a shortening patience and his veins jutting out like ruptures on the earth. "A fate worse than death! That's what awaits me if I were to lose her. I know it's hard to understand but if you look closer into your heart, maybe you'll find that standing before you is really just a girl challenged by time and fate to live the life she has always wanted-"

“Out of the way.” A voice cracked out from behind her, splitting through the thick clouds of her desperation and striking at the supervisor whose stature did stagger. Even without moving her head, she already knew who it was. Only one woman could have this much dominance, a palpable 'alpha energy' that could practically command you into heading straight to AOTree in search for specifically tagged fanfictions involving altered biology and cycles. “You obstruct Caterina Grimaldi de Alonso, heiress to the Grimaldus March. You would do well to get out of my way, now.”

Ceryn instinctively bit her lower lip as she watched Catarina shove the guard aside, her heart leaping for joy when she felt the demoness' rough hold on her hands. There was a certain type of warmth spreading through her chest that could only be achieved by letting one of your fictional crushes manhandle you through a corridor. If this was a manga, this particular scene would be a two-shot page of Ceryn's blushing face looking dazedly at Catarina and the latter's strong back, cherry blossom petals raining down the free spaces accompanied by floating Shoujo bubbles.

Alas, fate was cruel and her very romantic moment with the demoness came to an end when the supervisor yanked her back to reality. Literally. Catarina has already disappeared off the corner when this mongrel somehow managed to pull Ceryn's lanky arm into staying. The short-haired girl's glasses turned opaque as she angled her head to the side, a murderous dull masking her eyes as she looked at the cockblocking NPC who looked too busy having a flashback of his family in his head. Well, if this was how he wanted to play then so be it. SO BE IT!

"Pleaaaaaseeeee, let me through! You've already let two students through, what's one more? Besides, I was the one asking nicely, wasn't I? I'm not shoving you around or anything, I'm just asking you so very respectfully and so very patiently like wow, this is the attitude of someone who acknowledges that you are a human being, to be treated with utmost respect and equity. Growing up as a commoner, I know what it's like to be looked down upon, to be shoved like I'm nothing, and to be treated like an overall garbage just because I don't know who my parents are-"

She spoke and spoke and spoke until he banged the end of his spear against the floor, yelling at her to get back in line before resorting to threats of skewering her. "But wait, I haven't even told you the bullying I experienced in the orphanage. There was this one girl who was a fellow orphan, she kept on and on about how my friend and I will NEVER get adopted because we were weaklings so then I made a promise to my friend that we will both work hard to be strong and catch the eyes of prospective adopters which we eventually did and that is why we are both here now attending this assembly. Or well, we will be once I get to her and help her feel better and get her back here so we can enjoy another great moment together just as we were always meant to be." With the amount of sentences she has vomited, even Ceryn herself was no longer sure if they were all true. Was anything even real?!

Nonetheless, she kept going and going and going until she reached a point where the guard seemed to have just listed her voice as white noise and began to ignore her. It was only on her tenth paragraph did she finally get a new reaction from the man, his eyes dragging from the top of her head to the space above it as though she had grown a pair of long horns. Wait. What was he even looking at?

Craning her neck upwards, she came face-to-face with the domineering gaze of Durante. The bad boy, the Ares of the game, the character you'd want to build if you want to piss off the meta-Catarina builders in Readit. Truth to be told, he was her first Husbando of the game because all the routes she has organically chosen has led to an affection rise with him. It was only when her friend mentioned that Durante was like the genderbent version of her did she finally realize why. Well, she could never understand why anyone would insinuate that a kind idol such as herself was any way similar to a sadistic adrenaline junkie, but she figured it was because they were both just so cool and so good-looking.

Ceryn's face flushed red when Durante spoke close to her ear, his breath caressing her skin like the morning sun would to a student who has an exam that morning. It felt nice but the context was not. Even so, her heart pounded with vigor as she took in his blinding smile and towering form as he offered his foot for her to kiss.

It was a gesture she was all too familiar. Albeit usually, she would be the one on the other end of the stick. But that was before and this was now. Now, she was no longer a brilliant and drop-dead gorgeous woman who could get anything she wanted with a flutter of her lashes or a few guilt-tripping phrases. Now, she was just another face in the crowd— a washed-out duckweed in a sea of blue orchids dripping with dew, golden lilies glimmering like the sun, and red roses curling with perfect poise. She could only bargain so much with her cards.

Thus, she swallowed thickly and looked down, her glasses hiding the expression in her eyes. She quietly sunk to one knee and with a trembling hand began reaching out for Durante's foot. As she moved with slowness, she soaked in the heavy weight of Durante's expectant gaze and the guard's disdainful ones. Desperation could do things to a person. Despite pride, despite shame. When your life is in danger of being erased from the narrative, you will soon realize you have nothing else to lose. Her lips trembled as her fingers made contact with leather.

"Sprout step."

A faint flash of green flickered when Ceryn touched her own boots instead, vines swiftly creeping over her skin and enveloping the leather as she stuck her tongue out at Durante. In a blink of an eye, she bolted from the ground and past the staggered supervisor with enhanced speed, snickering a manic laugh as adrenaline coursed through her system. She didn't even know where her feet were taking her, all she knew was that the only soles she'd be kissing would be her diamond-coated comeback boots

ATurei simj26

 

[Crimson Rose]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 2 -Princess Emiliana Zaelynn Amora Valesian aka "Emi"



​

The ornate fan paused mid-sweep, held with practiced grace before lips she dared not let move, from the eyes on her. She was used to crowds. She’d grown up in them, hallways buzzing during high school class changes, chaotic dinner rushes during her grocery store job. But this? This was new. The center of attention? Not just scenery next to her prettier, louder, more photogenic roommate? That was… uncharted territory.

The displeased gasps from the crowd barely reached her ear within the halls, the weight of their collective stare prickling against her skin like needles through silk. The warmth rising in her cheeks wasn’t from embarrassment, she told herself—no, it was absolutely the lingering heat from the luxurious gown her servants pushed her into. Of course, someone had collided with one of the guards that followed her.
Emi’ blue eyes blinked slowly once as her gaze landed on the girl—Oriana, A character her former roommate did give her a small summary of before, one that really emphasized that this girl was a commoner, clearly. Not that titles mattered much to her as much as they probably mattered to the real Emiliana.

Honestly, she related more to the commoners than the pristine royals in this overwrought universe. She’d knocked over her fair share of grocery displays back in the day. Still, she’d really been hoping to start this whole ‘isekai princess’ thing quietly.

She’d really been hoping for a low-profile entrance, even if she was dressed like a misplaced ball invitation after servants insisted, she made a large entrance. At the very least, she wanted some time to get used to the whole “princess” thing before she had to actually perform.

"Kindly move aside," she murmured to her guards, who hesitated only a moment before stepping back. Just enough to give her space. But in her mind, it certainly still wasn’t enough.

Then he appeared with a deep bow, another commoner perhaps. Something, that started with an H, was it? She thought vaguely. A character she wasn’t familiar with all that well, her roommate never spoke much of him. Definitely not someone she remembered from character sheets or wiki summaries either.

Her eyes flicked between the two focusing more in on Orianna as she spoke.

‘Visage’? She felt her cheeks warm up just a smidge more, and to be using Emi, her nickname. Her blonde hair swayed as she tilted her head slightly

“Well, ” Emiliana began, her voice light, airy, she lowered the fan just enough to give the girl a proper once-over. Not out of judgment, but to ensure she wasn't injured from the collision. The armored outfits do look like they'd hurt just a tad bit. Though her uniform was kind of cute up close. it looked similar to one of the ones she spent hours crafting on.

Focus Emi! You’re a princess right now.

“That's certainly one way to greet someone. If you simply wish to gaze though I guess I could grant your wish. " Emi bowed her head slightly, as she lowered her fan just below her chin, before closing it briefly to grant them their wish. A simple one but easy to do. She rose her head up again straightening herself up.

“But next time, it's Princess Emiliana” she continued with a perfect princess smile, one similar to what would be a customer service smile. “Perhaps we start with a proper curtsy before the declarations of beauty and... inconvenient body collisions with royal security? It’d be less of a hassle for everyone around. Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt again.” She spoke, gently but firmly. Before turning to the other commoner looking person.

“And you, Sir, your concern is noted. Your apology is accepted. Though I must say—if your friend were truly overcome with nerves, it would be wise to take her somewhere a touch less crowded. Perhaps somewhere quiet with a glass of water would also do your friend some good.”


BriiAngelic ATurei

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 2 - DENIAL​

The scenario was similar, and yet entirely disparate from what had existed in the game. Yulian was a boy so upright that it was shallow, and it was standard for his first appearances throughout his routes to involve him intervening in some form of injustice, but a case of harassment in the introductory hall had never been among them. She hadn't even done anything yet, and the script was already starting to break. What would come next? A moment ago, she had known, and now she hadn't the slightest clue.

She broke from the crowd, leaving the sight of her faux-brother's rescue behind. If things beyond her eyes were cracking further, then she needed to know. As much as she loathed it, the beginning act of this game was seared hard into the folds of her brain. The campus rear, the demon girl being harassed, and the combat tutorial. If logic dictated anything- though she doubted it in a world so cheaply constructed as this- then Yulian should have made himself scarce from the ceremony not long after Esme's departure so that he might come to her aid, and yet he had not.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she power walked through the Academy's halls. It was good that so much of the school's population had flocked towards the ceremony, for now there was nobody present to notice her fervent gait. Her heels clipped against carpet and then stone tiles, the folds of her dress bunched within her hands and sweat on her brow.

Her purpose was clear. To observe, as she had already decided to, and not much more, but her memory of the game's CGs had betrayed her. The yard was far less densely forested than she had thought and as she, Anastasia Bourgogne rounded the corner sweaty and winded, she made a scene of herself immediately. It was chilly superiority that defined her character at this point in the game, not an aspiration to become a national jogger.

She needed to think fast.

"Lady... Silveau..." She huffed desperately. Before her transposition to this hellscape of a world, she had been unfit all of her life. Speaking through her gasping breath came naturally to her. "Forgive my intrusion... You may not have been made aware... But my father has requested that I see to your comfort during your transitional weeks at this Academy."

She took a moment to right herself, and scanned the girls present as if this were her first time seeing the situation. It was good that she'd come here. Not only was the Heroine nowhere to be seen, but 'Ivy' very plainly was, out of place, it looked, in many more ways than one. She adjusted the hems of her gloves. There was more going on here than she thought.

"I spied your flight from the ceremony, and suspected that you might be experiencing some discomfort. I did not expect you to have made your exit to entertain such a base hobby." She did not know it, but her tone was just as stern as the one which which her brother was currently lecturing the supervisor, only barbed with a thick tangle of thorns. Her eyes lingered on the weeping demon girl with neither pity nor contempt. It was neither of their places to assist this girl, but nor was it to abuse her.

"Worry not, for I will not speak of this to a soul, but surely this must not be the manner in which you see the most fit to spend your time? Did you not find our headmaster's speech stimulating enough? You are fortunate it is I and not my fool of a brother whom my father asked to see to your well being. Impeached to aid you or not, in his brashness, he may well have drawn his blade upon you at such a sight."

She strode forward. Peggy and Maggie, she recognized them both, if only barely. An idiot and a fool, with whom Ivy Silveau would normally play the dunce.

"...As well as all others present. And am I sure you would not wish to see such blood on your hands, would you?"

miki ATurei

 

[ATurei]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 3
​

The Hall’s Main Entrance​

“The Five bless your kind soul, Your Royal Highness,” Hector made a deep bow of gratitude. This was partly done to hide his expression. Then he hesitated. To a slick master of deception indecision was blasphemy, and yet he could afford this. His brain was running, even as a commander’s who come to a sudden halt in the midst of a raging battlefield, having marked a weak spot in the enemy lines, an opportunity for breakthrough only he could discern.

After a moment that dragged on all but too long, he raised his head. This could be of use, indeed. And as the pieces fell into place, a plan formulated more quickly than it would have taken to explain to a lesser man of all its machinations, Hector’s face warped at once into a mask of concern and humility.

His grip on Orinana’s shoulder tightened. The draining magic that had waned before now waxed once more. There was no mercy now, not even a threat, but a power of malice that could’ve made any girl of lesser magical power crumble on the spot.

“Truth be told, Your Royal Highness,” said he with a measure of scruple, as that of a man apprehensive of his own temerity, “My friend here is long an admirer of yours, perhaps is why she first turned to you, by some unwise instinct or deep-seated admiration, when alas her nerves failed her. But look how she pales before your attendants! For your guards disquiet her so! It would be a great kindness, indeed, if you could dismiss your guards and spare a scant moment of solitude with the girl. You would come to no harm, of course, in this sacred hall of the Academy.”

It was a nice spin, if he might say so himself. Of course Oriana, who had no love for human royalty, would admire this tedious princess, but her words, by accident or something else, had lent the appearance of earnest admiration. He would lean on this angle.

And as for the princess, if he ever had had a sneaking suspicion of shrewdness under the facade of benevolence, it had now been banished to oblivion. Having now engaged in direct dialogue with the girl, he could well regard the rumors of her to be true. She was little more than a kind-hearted and naive girl. And someone who might not be long for this world.

He turned his attention briefly to the crowd of students behind him, who had in turn been captivated by the ruckus at the entrance. The vice-principal speech had long come to an end due to the disruption. The plan had been to trigger the assault by the ceremony’s end, when caution ebbed low. But he saw now an opportunity too good to let slip. Even if he could not convince the princess to dismiss her guards, his position within her proximity would allow such freedom of action as he could never have dreamed of during the chaos immediately after the explosion.

So thank you, Oriana, you have served me unwittingly well!

And grinning inside as he pretended to anxiously study the crowd, Hector gave a subtle signal.

On the other side of the hall, a young student nodded ever so slightly, before starting on the move according to his commander’s instruction. The plan was to be accelerated ahead of schedule.

This student was one of no memorable features. His hair was dark and his frame lanky, his face full of freckles. But he also wore a black cloak, an unfashionable article that could also be used to conceal an unseen dagger hand. There were more like him in the hall, but he would always be the one to make the first move.

Players who savescum repeatedly to beat the hardmode battle would no doubt be familiar with the sight of him as he broke away from the student body.

And now he was headed for the wall some minutes before Charlotte had vandalized.

Yulian was not at all interested in this fellow, rather he was concerned by Charlotte’s odd words and deeds.

He shook his head at the girl’s melodramatic confession. “You are not a very good liar. Whatever you did, you did not do it of your own volition, it is plain. For there’s a fear in your countenance that does not evince self-interest. Someone threatened you, I think, or the well-being of a friend. That cannot stand.”

Presently, he turned to the supervisor, “All the same, you heard her. The magic she cast was harmless. Do you bring this to a higher authority, at best the girl will get a slap on the wrist, a stern reprimand for silliness, no more. So pray, let her be, lest I include your action in my report of what happened here.”

“Of course,” the man shook and bowed low, “ ‘tis as you say, a harmless prank. And of course there are more important matters for me to attend to than this silliness.” So said, he promptly withdrew, silently as though fearing even a breath too loud would cause the young man to reconsider his leniency.

In the same beat, Yullian seized Charlotte’s hand. Gallant Yulian was a man of action, as quick to make a move as he was to jump to conclusions.

“Nor shall I stand idly before whatever injustice has befallen you or your friend. Come, tell me the truth of what you did there.” And so he dragged the demon girl bodily, heedless of any protest, towards the wall that might or might not explode with the power of a thousand suns any moment now.

AzaleaWonderland BriiAngelic Crimson Rose

The Hall’s Side Entrance​

Durante’s face crumbled with disgust. To think there existed a pig so disgraceful as to actually consider kissing another person’s feet! He was, of course, not in the slightest way convinced that the girl kneeling was doing it out of earnest concern for a friend. For it was inconceivable, indeed, that a creature so lacking in the department of shame could ever possess the faculty necessary for friendship or anything of human intelligence. Commoners truly were shameless pigs after all, so readily would they debase themselves for the lowliest of feeds!

Seething internally, the cruel man thought that no way in heaven and hell would he allow this creature to touch him bodily, feet or else. But then he cracked a sadistic grin, fangs baring. No, he would let her lips touch his shoe, indeed, but only by his own terms--terms so hard it would shatter her teeth and maybe even her skull! It would be no crime after all to rid this world of a parasite.

But before he could prepare himself for the kick, the vermin did the unthinkable: doing the kicking herself. Though she only kicked the ground.

As the girl stormed off laughing wildly like a devil’s spawn, Durante was stunned. He stared after the girl’s receding back for a second, still processing the incident. Then he loosed a laugh of his own, a gruesome guffaw that shook the walls and bones of men. One that would not be out of place during a battle’s madness.

Grimacing, he kicked the guard aside. If the latter had found a shove humiliating, he could only consider himself lucky to be alive after this treatment. The mail-clad man flew across the hall, hit the wall, and crumbled.

“How dare you cross me, damn pig!” Durante growled. But despite his solemn swear for vengeance, the man was laughing still like a maniac. Quickly now, he set off after Ceryn, determined to learn of what had spurred this girl’s desperation and utter insolence, and not least to carry out proper punishment for it.

Far off, even as Ceryn ran as far away from the man as could, a message ran through her head by a disembodied voice, dispassionate in tone as it was chilling in content.


Durante’s affection points: +2


. D O V E

Outside the Forest​

“H-horses?” Maggie and Peggy were so taken aback their voices came out in unison. And uniform too were their blank looks. If the specimen in front of them wasn’t a duke’s daughter no doubt they would have been slowly backing away now. As was, though, they could only laugh dryly.

“Your interest is unique indeed, ma’am,” said Peggy, who gave her companion a sidelong look. Maggie responded only with a shrug. It was no secret that some nobles out there were eccentric, and that there was a rumor of the Bourgognes putting unsavory substances in their exports of chillingly good wines, a delicacy the Silveau consumed in no small quantity.

Such rumors, only just now given credentials, were crossing their minds when a related party appeared.

Subsequent threats left them blanched. They knew Anastasia, a second-year and a fellow baron’s daughter, well enough. And more reputed was her brother. The meddlesome man who liked to posture for some misguided sense of justice, and who would sooner endanger himself and his before thinking of consequences. There’s no reasoning with idiots, after all. They swallowed. Already the fun they could have had with this demon appeared not very attractive anymore. Anastasia most certainly wasn’t even doing this out of kindness for the demon, but rather the habitual desire to bully others. How Peggy and Maggie resented immoral bullies who trampled upon others for amusement! And yet all they could do was swallow their pride in the face of injustice.

Or not.

Peggy was letting her temper get to her. Unhinged brother or not, this one was only a baron’s daughter, no better themselves. How dare she use that tone with them. The noble put a hand on her hip defiantly, the other hand pointed at the rude girl’s face. “You think you can call upon your brother for everything, wench? We have tolerated you long enough, forsooth! The others will hear of this: we will tell them that you tried to protect a demon! And then your social life will be over and doomed! Doomed!”

Indeed the two belonged to a large clique of lesser nobles, which was to be eventually taken over by Ivy in the game’s plot soon after she had familiarized herself with the Academy.

Her indignation was interrupted. Her friend was cursing.

“Oh Peggy, why did you let her go! Oi, quit struggling!” Maggie complained. Then.

Spoiler

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.”

Before they knew it, the demon girl had bolted from Maggie’s grasp. She was holding her arm in tears.

“The bitch bit me!” cried she, “the bitch bit me! She bit me! She bit my arm.”

“Yeah, I saw, and heard,” Peggy remarked, ears ringing.

There were teeth marks on Maggie’s white and supple forearm. But contrary to any sensible estimations based on the unearthly howl she gave, the noble’s limb had not been bitten off its shoulder socket.

“Damn you, do something about it!” Maggie stomped her feet, “what if she was diseased!”

The display of great distress at last penetrated Peggy’s stupor. And at once she drew back and away. She deferred just long enough to turn up her nose at Anatasia, and cursed. “The blame is on you, wretched. I shall tell all how you helped that demon escape, for that you did. All will hear of it.”

But she wasted no more time, and now turned to go away in earnest. Her palms spread to the sides and downwards, when she whispered the needful words, and presently the pocket of air around her seemed to burn and vibrate, and the taste on those nearby’s skin and tongue dried up as though suddenly deprived of moisture.

House Piccalilli was not a great house, and their magic was a good deal inferior to many famed lesser lines in the realm. But yet in certain walks of life, particularly in ever and anon tournaments of lesser renown and niche sports, theirs was a name that had left a mark in obscure annals.

And still in some discounted poetry collections to this date might be stumbled upon in flea markets, one could find striking stanzas describing the unique sight of a Piccalilli bursting from the startling line with the fire and combustion of a cannonball. Something all too violent and much unladylike for a noble girl, yet all the same a spectacle to behold.

And so before they all knew it, the space Peggy had occupied a moment before was now only an empty pocket of charged air. Maggie trailed in her friend’s wake who soared through the air. But ere long, Peggy had caught up with the demon girl without anyone’s help. She landed on top of the victim with a triumphant and particularly vicious sound.

miki The One Eyed Bandit

Outside the Castle​

Esme jerked her hand back, head wheeled sharply towards the direction of the unearthly cry that had just penetrated the early morning’s clear air. She was in the middle of taking the demon noble’s hand, and it had been incredibly rude to reject it at the last second. Even if she was a bit weirded out by the noble's overfriendliness. But she paid no mind to it. What she’d heard just now could only be an emergency. For all her time alive she’d not heard a human utter such a sound of horror. No, it was definitely no human or demon sound, but something from the depths of a more primal age, when in answer to horrors less defined than wars and beasts, the conscious mind could then be bent to deeds unaccustomed to its host.

“Did you hear it?” her voice quivered. It was a senseless question, as everyone within a league or so would no doubt have heard the sound or the echoes of it. It was something of at once a disturbing nature and worrying aspects that could only command her feet towards it. Had it not been so loud, the girl would have found it difficult to leave the noble before her to investigate the sound, as that would be rude indeed. But she had no mind for manners now. Someone was in grave danger, it appeared. And this called for haste.

“Someone’s in trouble, we--I should take a look,” she said, for she did not dare to presume Caterina would follow her. And yet innerly she would find it odd that any intelligent creature would not be disturbed by that sound, and do something about it. Her nature was simple. If someone was in trouble, it behooved her to help.

And so she was soon away. At the corner of her eye, she found Ceryn just now emerging from the castle’s side entrance, presumably out of concern for her well-being. But she could not afford to wait for the girl.

She broke into a sprint. Unlike Peggy, she did not employ magic to aid her haste, so she eventually arrived even later than Maggie at the scene, where Peggy was still sitting atop the demon girl.

The first thing she saw was not anyone nearby but the victim clearly in distress, tears streaming down her face.

“What’s going on here!” she demanded. For it seemed to her it must be the one apprehended to have made that frightening sound, and so violence must be afoot. Even upon arrival, she had made up her mind to get involved.



After her, Ceryn might or might not have noticed the appearance of another party, one who had likewise broken into a sprint, the moment Esme did, from the stalking shadow behind a column of the veranda.

Spoiler: Beau

Beau: the antisocial, bookworm, and eccentric love interest. Some players find him creepy, for good reasons, while others think his antics are endearing, for odd reasons. Ivy’s brother has low social, political and leadership stats, but above-average combat abilities. His strongest point is the highly powerful stratagems in the war phases. His routes could be both lawful and chaotic

simj26 . D O V E

 

[miki]

MAIN SCENARIO QUEST 1
TURN 3 - IVY SILVEAU

​

Up until this very moment, she had no reason to believe that the plot had begun to unravel. Things were simply as they were before, with the only changing factor being Ivy herself. She could easily convince herself that everything was in her control.

But she could play the fool no longer. Because Anastasia Bourgogne wasn’t even supposed to be in this scene—let alone butting into the conversation with thinly veiled criticisms.

Ivy’s bottom lip twisted inward as she bit down on it. Her greatest concern had shifted to wonder: how had she ended up here? She hadn’t done anything too different from canon—she was outside around the time the original edition would have been, the only difference was she had acted like a buffoon instead of joining the bullies.

The only logical deduction to be made was her actions in the week prior had somehow shifted the plot. Her butterfly, acting frail and slightly awry at the estate as she prepared for her arrival at the academy. The gusts of wind, likely gossip about her odd behavior, prompting one of her family members to bring it up with House Bourgogne. The tsunami, Anastasia Bourgogne somehow being present when she definitely should NOT.

Looking up at the baroness, Ivy couldn’t help but gulp. Such a face was horrifying. Because in the depths of her memory was a triple all-nighter pulled, with her spine slack against her gaming chair as her eyes glazed over the computer. All featuring her attempts at gunning for The Broken Cage ending (it was the hardest ending she had attempted yet, okay!?). And she had cackled with glee every time the body of Ivy Silveau was found, lips blue and face puffy; skin sucked in until she appeared skeleton-like; knife plunged in her heart with a melodramatic forged note placed next to her.

Was this karma? Was this justice for all the times she forgot to say good morning to her elderly neighbors, or for slacking off in her group projects?

And everything could only go downhill from there. Wonderful, she mentally grumbled, She’s got all the more reason to dislike me now too. Not that she would blame her, really. She had come there to fetch her as a chore, and now she was being threatened with social ruin. All because she was seemingly an idiot. The issue? She wasn’t that stupid! She was here for a really good reason, one that she couldn’t reveal.

And Ivy could only watch in horror as the scene that hadn’t belonged to her escalated times one hundred. With such a commotion, she had to act now. Standing idly while twiddling her thumbs was too detached for a scuffle between students.

Her heart pounded as she was faced with actual decision making. FUCK! I’m not ready! I need a combat tutorial or something! Or a save and quit to title button! GET ME OUTTA HERE!

But after giving her mental gymnastics a couple of seconds to run its course, she perked up. If she sided with Anastasia now, she’d still take significantly less of the blame from the two noble girls. Perhaps they’d see her as moldable, naive. An easily influential yet powerful piece in their game. And of course, standing up for what’s right would all look stellar to the girl with the only opinion that really mattered.

This was all actually perfect! Thank you, Anastasia Bourgogne!

She dashed closely behind Maggie, a frown crossing her face as she came across the scene. A far more obvious example of bullying, anyone would say. Tears streaming down one’s face as they’re beaten down is fairly bad-looking.

“Hey!” She shouted, bold as she had been while rambling nonsense. “This doesn’t appear to be very nice! Isn’t it our job as noble ladies to treat everyone with kindness!?”

It was still absolute nonsense—the duke’s daughter was seemingly mixing up the duties of a fairytale princess and an actual noble. But that would cease to matter.

The hair on her neck stood up as she heard an even louder, more righteous shout from behind her. That voice was impossible for her not to recognize. Her neck whipped in the direction of the sound: And she was face to face with the pink-haired jewel of St. Hydrangea. The sun of which everything in this world revolved around.

In such an emotional moment, it was hard to form words.

“I think they’re being cruel to… forgive me, what is your name?” Without thinking, she addressed the demon girl directly—a shock to all, surely. A duke’s daughter politely asking to address a demon by name?

Maybe she was actually stupid.


The One Eyed Bandit ATurei

 

[simj26]

Caterina Grimaldi de Alonso
The Patriarch

“Fuck.”

It had been a long time since he had to take a drag from a Cuban, procured from one of the head families whenever his underlings performed well in their recent gigs. He missed the choking fumes that clouded his lungs. He did not, however, miss the cravings of nicotine that sent him into a scowling rage. Right now, though, he was severely missing something between his teeth to take the edge off. The Heroine was just running everywhere today.

She gathered her bearings, and started off after the Heroine. Spry as the Heroine was, both Caterina and the Patriarch were used to running, especially by now, and she arrived not a moment after the Heroine. She glanced at the tussle.

“What the fuck– OI!”

The Patriarch had always been a man of action. The talking was secondary, usually reserved just to laud praise on his boys, or to chat up hostesses unsuccessfully. Whatever this was shaping up to be, he’d be better off pulling the lass off the other one, and then letting the Heroine and whoever else was jumping around in this here collective talk it out.

She ran up towards the pile of bodies, hooking her arms around the one on top and, using her own weight, flung both herself and the other girl onto the ground, away from the girl at the bottom. “Hey, oi, calm down there, g– miss!” She grunted, ducking her head into the girl’s back, away from the elbows aimed at her face as she kept her grip. She could shift her grapple into something more restricting, but some instincts were telling her that it was probably not a good idea to put this lass in a headlock.

ATurei