Stay calm.
She wasn't necessarily referring to me being a transmigrator.
Jakob was a foreigner in these lands, after all. I just needed to act natural.
"A pleasure to meet you, miss. I am Jakob Liedschlag."
"That is not your name," she replied instantly. "It is merely the name of the body you stole. It holds no interest for me."
Of course.
Zofia "Stargaze" Cromwell.
She was never a heroine, nor was she ever a boss. No route you can clear.
In [Kings Roads], she was the NPC burdened with the most absurdly convoluted questlines and mission chains in the entire game.
Whenever she appeared, it was usually as a strange interlude between major story routes— because no player is arrogant enough (or masochistic) to chase her Royal Road to the end.
The reason was simple.
"…You're the master of Star Magic, aren't you?"
In this world, magic reshapes the caster as much as it reshapes reality.
There are five schools—excluding the faith-based powers of the King of Souls or the Jester God:
Natural Magic.
Mechanical Magic.
Metallurgical Magic.
Soul Magic.
Star Magic.
Over the course of a full playthrough, a player could meet practitioners of nearly every school, including at least six heroines who had mastered one of those disciplines.
Spells from almost any school could be learned with enough stats.
Except for Star Magic.
"Your soul is not from this world," Zofia said, her voice calm and certain. "Do they know of our existence where you come from?"
Standing before me was the greatest mage of the last millennium—if the lore is to be believed.
I tried to meet her gaze.
I failed almost immediately.
Her eyes shimmered like living constellations.
Beautiful, yes, but deeply unnerving. Looking into them felt like staring into an infinite, indifferent cosmos.
"Something like that," I muttered, forcing my eyes somewhere else—anywhere else.
That stare was genuinely terrifying.
Still, for strictly scientific reasons, I allowed myself a moment to take her in and compare the real woman to her in-game model.
She was beautiful. Of course she was. This is still an eroge world.
Thick black hair framed her face, cut with precise straight bangs.
Her skin was pale, and her features possessed a mature, composed elegance that made many players in the fandom argue she was somewhere in her thirties or forties based solely on her dialogue.
In person, the question felt irrelevant. She wore time the way other women wore perfume.
She wore a black-and-blue cloak that concealed nearly her entire body.
The only detail visible beneath her oversized witch's hat was the golden monocle resting over her right eye.
In person, the aura around her was palpable—overwhelming power, certainly, but also something else.
Boredom. Bone-deep, ancient boredom.
"…Fascinating," she said. "Is it common in your world to inspect a young and beautiful lady as though she were a work of art?"
Right. She noticed.
I felt heat rising in my cheeks.
"Hey, did you just call yourself beautiful?"
"I merely stated the obvious."
One slender hand slipped from beneath her cloak and came to rest against my chest.
The touch was light, yet electricity crackled through every nerve.
"Your soul is not yet fully bound to this vessel," she noted. "Some remnant of the original owner still clings to it."
There's still some of Jakob left?
And damn, she made it sound like I'd pickpocketed a corpse.
"I didn't exactly ask to be here."
"I did not ask, nor do I care."
Cold.
"Then why—"
She snapped her fingers.
Reality folded.
One heartbeat I was standing; the next I was seated in a plush velvet chair beneath a striped garden umbrella. A round table stood between us, laden with porcelain and pastries.
… Okay. Fine. I'm not even going to question it.
It wasn't even the strangest thing that had happened to me today.
A plate of cookies and a delicate white porcelain teacup trimmed in blue sat before me.
I picked up the cup and took a cautious sip.
Mint.
And something else I couldn't identify. It was delicious.
"How rude," Zofia said, flipping through a thick tome without sparing me a glance. "To drink without permission simply because it is in front of you."
"You teleported me into the chair with the cup already in reach. What was I supposed to think?" I replied, reaching for a cookie.
It was excellent too.
"I see. So you possess no survival instincts whatsoever. That could have been poison."
Fair point.
I paused, then took another deliberately loud sip.
"Is it poison?" I asked with a smile. "Because it tastes pretty good."
Zofia finally looked at the cup in my hands.
"It contains my bodily fluids."
I froze.
Her what?!
I forced my face to stay neutral—mostly—and drained the rest in one swallow.
The porcelain clicked sharply as I set it down.
"Why?"
A small, wicked smile curved her lips.
"You are a deplorable man. You knew what it contained, and you still drank it."
I need coffee. Immediately.
"I'm suddenly very grateful I never played your Royal Road," I muttered.
She really was an unbelievably troublesome woman.
"I may be beautiful as a queen, but I have never been royalty," she said lightly. "In any case, foreign soul—what exactly are you?"
"A perfectly ordinary guy whose plans just took a hard left into crazytown."
"How rude. The intruder calls a beautiful lady irritating in her own home. Truly barbaric."
I took a slow breath.
"How do you know I'm not from this world?" I asked, deciding it was better to get to the point.
At last, Zofia looked up from her tome. Her smile made my headache intensify.
"Do you know how magic works in this world?"
Vaguely. Reading about it was one thing. Understanding it was another.
Still, with Jakob's memories, I could piece enough together.
Magic didn't merely shape reality here—it shaped the people who used it. It wasn't uncommon for fire mages to eventually burn themselves alive or mutate into something monstrous in their pursuit of greater power.
An entire enemy faction, the Children of the Burn, had been built around that very concept.
Star Magic, however, is different.
It makes its practitioners sensitive to the immaterial—to fate, to souls, to the threads that tie existence together.
"Does Star Magic let you see my soul?" I asked.
Zofia's smile widened.
"Yes. And a little more than that." She raised one hand toward my face and closed her fingers. Between them, I saw hundreds of colored strands twisting and writhing. "Star Magic makes its users sensitive to the immaterial. I can see the remnants of magic clinging to you—small threads in many colors. It means an ancient magic. One that… surpasses me and…"
Her eyes suddenly darted erratically, as though she were looking at everything and nothing at once. Then her hand clamped over my mouth with terrifying strength.
A disturbing smile spread across her face.
"Does the title [He Who Bears All Names] mean anything to you?"
Even with her hand over my mouth, I tried to answer. "You mean Hel—"
"DON'T SAY HIS NAME, IDIOT!"
Pain exploded through my jaw as her grip tightened. In that moment, any illusion I had about her playful demeanor shattered.
For a moment I was certain she would shatter bone like glass.
Terror hit me all at once—pure, animal.
I was a mouse beneath the shadow of a dragon.
This woman was a monster. The kind that could level mountains.
And I was completely at her mercy.
She noticed, of course, and released me.
I touched my aching jaw and stared.
She wasn't afraid.
She was annoyed.
As if I'd tracked mud across her carpet instead of nearly summoning the setting's most dangerous primordial.
"Do you have unfinished business with that bearded bastard?" I asked hoarsely.
She looked at me like I was the stupidest creature in existence.
"Are you truly unaware of the danger [He Who Bears All Names] poses to you?"
Danger?
Then it clicked.
Helal isn't just a late-game boss.
He is the antagonist who wants the world to remain exactly as it is—broken, cyclical, eternal.
He hates anomalies.
He breaks them.
He breaks their lovers.
He breaks everything that dares step outside the script.
I remembered the bad ends where Aeono loses.
Dismemberment. Lobotomy. Worse.
A cold sweat broke across my skin.
"…Thank you," I said, and meant it with every fiber of my being.
She had just saved my life.
Zofia studied me for a moment, then gave a small nod.
"At least you comprehend how fragile you are."
I wasn't about to pretend otherwise.
"Do not be obtuse," she said, a glint appearing in her eyes. "Tell me—what did you want from my library?"
There was no point in lying.
"Power."
Her smile returned—still terrifying, but no longer murderous.
"And what do you offer in exchange?"
Of course. Nothing here was free.
I crossed my arms. "What do *you* want?"
"Entertainment," she answered, "and for you to kill a rat."
"…Huh?"
"I have existed in this world for a very long time, foreigner. There are few things left that can surprise me. Yet you possess knowledge of this world, and the remnant clinging to your soul makes it obvious that something—or someone—immensely powerful brought you here."
She leaned forward slightly.
"I know this world's fate," I said carefully, "but I can't reveal everything yet."
"As expected. Knowledge of the future is often more a curse than blessing." She sounded almost bored. "So. Can [He Who Bears All Names] be defeated?"
I saw the spark of genuine interest in her eyes.
"Yes," I said. "In two months, a hero will arrive. The fate of the world rests on his shoulders."
Zofia raised an elegant eyebrow.
"Has the Soul King raised a prophet in this generation?"
"No. I'm just a nobody. But I can still be useful. And entertaining. I only need an opportunity."
She considered me in silence for a long moment. Then she smiled.
"What do you want?"
I raised three fingers.
"The Tome of Fortitude, magical training, and… your protection."
Zofia lifted three fingers in return, her expression utterly flat.
"Done. Now tell me—what was the preferred magic of the body you stole? And you will still deal with that rat."
A thick book dropped heavily into my lap. The moment it touched me, an electric current ran through my body.
"Rat?" I asked weakly.
"In recent years, the rat population in the drainage tunnels has undergone some… curious mutations. The director and staff fear they may soon become a threat to the students."
Oh. Right. That rat.
The early-game EXP joke.
"Why don't you handle it yourself?" I asked. "For someone as powerful as you, it should be trivial."
Zofia's face twisted into an expression of pure disgust. It was, against my better judgment, kind of cute.
"Absolutely not. Those tunnels are filthy. Such crude labor is beneath a beautiful lady. It suits a brute like you perfectly."
I sighed.
"Can I bring help?"
"Umu."
Umu?
You know what? Whatever.
Armine would make the extermination far more efficient anyway.
I let out a long breath.
"Sure," I said. "What's the worst that could happen?"