Still, she was being remarkably... considerate. Which, frankly, was terrifying.
'Wait, is my memory card corrupted? This isn't the woman from the wiki.'
In the game, Eris Vane didn't "care" about people; she appraised them like livestock. She was a high-functioning perfectionist who treated flaws like personal insults. Arrogant, cold, and possessing the kind of "better than you" energy that could power a small city—that was the Eris I spent hours trying to defeat.
So what was with the delicate, thoughtful vibe she was radiating right now? Whether it was the flavor text in her bio or her cutscene dialogue, this was undeniably weird.
"Do you have more questions? You look like someone who's trying to solve a particularly frustrating math equation."
"No. It's just... you're surprisingly civil," I managed to squeak out.
At that, Eris actually lowered the newspaper. It was the first time she'd given me her full, undivided attention, and I felt my soul try to leave my body through my ears. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous crimson slits.
"Surprisingly?"
"Uh, yes?"
"Have the rumors in the countryside been that unkind? Or have we met in a past life I've forgotten?"
"..."
'Well, technically, I know you're the one who's going to turn the continent into a charcoal pit, so there's that.'
But then I remembered the lore. Her "Villain Arc" didn't actually kick off until she met the Protagonist. It all started with a massive inferiority complex—the realization that the "Perfect Hero" had talent that made her years of hard work look like a toddler's finger painting.
You might wonder how a bruised ego ends the world, but the real problem was the "stowaway" living inside her.
'The Twilight Stagnation.'
Thinking of the entity lurking within the Vane bloodline, I couldn't help but let out a bitter, internal wheeze. It's a King-Class disaster, an ancient evil so foul it's mentioned in the "Do Not Open" section of the creation myths.
The moment that thing is unleashed, the credits roll for humanity. And the trigger? Eris having a total mental breakdown. In the original story, she kept slamming into the Protagonist until her sanity snapped like a dry twig, the demon took over her body, and... well, boom. Unless the Hero is at max level, the world is basically toast.
And here I am, telling a ticking time bomb that I thought she'd be more of an explosive personality. I must have a death wish.
"...I've just heard you were... exceptionally strict with your standards," I improvised, sweating through my cheap linen shirt.
Eris stared at me for an uncomfortably long time, then let out a slow, dramatic sigh. I think my half-baked excuse actually landed.
"You're a strange creature, aren't you, little Baron?"
"Yes, it's a common complaint," I blurted out with a smile that felt like it was stapled onto my face.
I immediately glued my eyes to the window, watching the scenery blur past. I was officially retiring from this conversation. If I said one more word, I'd probably accidentally trigger the end of the world three years early.
My life goal was simple: let the Main Character carry the team. There is absolutely no survival benefit to loitering around "Plot Relevant" individuals. My retirement plan involved being a professional bystander, staying calm, and enjoying the view from the window.
The spring scenery was genuinely elite. Picturesque meadows, blooming orchards—you could practically smell the budget-high-fantasy through the glass. The rolling hills, the sparkling streams, the majestic mountains, and the house-sized boulder currently hurtling toward my face at terminal velocity.
"..."
Wait.
One of those things is not like the others.
Crap!
"High Arbiter!" I barked.
"Hmm?"
"Pardon my reach!"
I didn't wait for a reply. I lunged across the tiny table and tackled Eris Vane into the cushioned seat.
"...?!"
Even a world-ending boss-tier villain has a "processing" bar, and hers was currently stuck at 0%. She was visibly shaken. Apparently, having a random country bumpkin dive into your personal space isn't part of the standard noble curriculum.
Unfortunately, the universe didn't give us a timeout for an explanation.
—!!!
—BOOM!!!
The boulder collided with our compartment, erasing the exterior wall like it was made of wet tissue paper. The force was catastrophic. The train groaned, shrieked, and decided to exit the tracks in favor of a violent tumble down the embankment.
The world became a washing machine of screaming metal and shattered wood. We did a few high-velocity somersaults as the entire carriage rolled over, the roar of the impact drowning out the panicked shrieks of the other passengers.
And through all of that chaos? We were perfectly fine.
It wasn't because I have plot armor—I'm an extra, I have "plot cardboard" at best. It was because of the shimmering azure hexagon pattern currently encasing us.
[ Automatic Aegis: Saint's Grace ]
I was drenched in cold sweat, but I let out a wheeze of relief. I knew she had this passive defense—it was a nightmare to break in the game—and I knew it would trigger the second the carriage took damage. If I hadn't been within the radius of that shield, I'd be a red smear on a rock right now.
"...Are you... quite finished?"
A voice drifted up from directly beneath me. It was cold, clipped, and suspiciously strained.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Still alive. Barely."
"Then perhaps you could... relocate your hands? It's a bit... restrictive."
It was only then, as the dust settled and the ringing in my ears faded, that I realized my current topographical map. In my desperate, uncoordinated lunge to stay inside her shield, I hadn't exactly checked my grip.
My left hand was braced against the seat, but my right hand was... firmly, unmistakably buried in the soft, dark fabric of her uniform. Right over her chest. And because of the impact, I was squeezing.
"..."
My brain didn't just blue-screen; it caught fire. I scrambled off her with the grace of a startled cat, nearly tripping over a piece of the ceiling.
The High Arbiter stood up, her movements stiff. She began tidying her bone-white hair and smoothing out her rumpled uniform, but she wouldn't look at me. Her neck and the tips of her ears were a shade of crimson that rivaled her eyes.
Oh, god. This is it. She's going to execute me for 'High Treason via Grope'.
"I am so incredibly, profoundly sorry—"
"It's fine," she interrupted, her voice a bit higher than usual. "You were... trying to shield me from the shrapnel."
"What?"
"It was... a reckless, primitive display of chivalry," she continued, finally looking up. Her face was still flushed, but she was trying to maintain that 'Ice Queen' facade. "It was my first time having such... radical physical contact with a man. But I recognize your intent was to act as a human shield. There is no need for an apology."
"..."
Wait, she thinks I was protecting HER? I mean, from her perspective, I jumped into the line of fire to cover her body with mine before the shield even fully materialized. She didn't realize I was actually using her as a magical umbrella.
As I was trying to figure out how to navigate this spectacular misunderstanding, Eris straightened her collar, the curve of her legs visible through the dust and debris as she shifted her stance.
"You," she said, her eyes locking onto mine with a new, terrifyingly intense focus. "What is your name?"
"Wait, what?"
I felt a cold shiver crawl down my spine that had nothing to do with the draft from the missing wall. According to the game's lore, Eris Vane doesn't just go around asking for names like she's a barista. She only asks for the name of someone she's deemed "Relevant." And in her world, "Relevant" usually means you're either her next target or her next obsession.
If I give her an answer, I'm basically signing a contract to appear in every high-stakes cutscene for the next three volumes.
"I asked for your name, little Baron. Don't make me ask a third time."
Her stare was like a laser pointer aimed at my forehead. I couldn't exactly hit her with a "Who wants to know?" without being turned into a shish kebab.
"It's... Cyprian. Cyprian Thorne."
"Cyprian... Thorne," she murmured, rolling the syllables around like she was tasting a vintage wine. She nodded to herself, a terrifyingly resolute look in her eyes. "Understood. I won't forget it. Consider me in your debt, Cyprian. I'll be sure to settle the score later."
Please don't. Please forget me immediately. Let's be strangers who happen to have shared a near-death experience and a very awkward chest-grab.
I offered a shaky, awkward smile, already planning my transfer to a different continent. But as Eris tried to regain her noble composure and step over a pile of smoldering luggage, her luck finally mirrored mine.
One of her designer heels—clearly not rated for "post-train-wreck terrain"—snapped with a sharp crack.
"Ah—"
She lost her balance instantly. Since I was the only solid thing left in the wreckage, gravity decided to play a joke on us. She pitched forward, and because she was already leaning down to navigate the debris, her momentum sent her straight into me.
In a literal blur of "funeral-chic" fabric and pale skin, her chest slammed directly into my face.
For a split second, the world was just soft, expensive-smelling uniform and a very sudden lack of oxygen. It was a 4K, high-definition sensory overload that the game's developers definitely hadn't intended for an NPC.
She scrambled back a second later, her face now a color of red that shouldn't be biologically possible for someone that pale. She cleared her throat, adjusted her hat with trembling fingers, and stared at a particularly interesting rock on the floor.
"The... floor is uneven," she managed, her voice barely a whisper.
I couldn't even respond. My brain had officially left the building. And that's when the neon nightmare decided to ruin my life.
---
< SYSTEM NOTIFICATION >
[ ALERT: You have successfully charmed a World-Class Calamity! ]
[ HIDDEN CONDITION MET: 'The Extra's Audacity' ]
[ 'SPECIAL GIFT AWAKENED: 'The Butterfly's Burden' ]
[ NEW ABILITIES ACQUIRED: ]
Skill: [ Bottom-Tier Bravado ]
– Passive. The lower your stats compared to your opponent, the more "heroic" and "misunderstood" your accidental actions appear to them.
Skill: [ Magnetic Disaster ]
– Active. You possess a gravitational pull for high-level "Villainesses." Side effects include frequent near-death experiences and extreme romantic confusion.
---
...What the actual hell?
I stared at the floating text in genuine horror. I didn't want a "Special Gift." I wanted a quiet life where the most dangerous thing I encountered was a particularly grumpy goat.
Instead, the system basically just told me I'm now a heat-seeking missile for the most dangerous women in the world. And the Final Boss? She's currently fixing her hair and glancing at me through her bangs like I just saved her entire bloodline.
I am so dead.