Noelle Zel Lespinasse.
That was her name. That was who she used to be, back before everything went to hell. Before the combination of the Five Great Noble Houses conspired to bring her family down, accusing them of treachery and treason, painting them as enemies of the Republic who needed to be eliminated for the greater good.
They massacred them all. Men, women, children, servants, guards. Everyone who bore the Lespinasse name or had sworn loyalty to it was butchered without mercy.
Except her.
Except her younger twin sister.
They had escaped. Barely. With nothing but the clothes on their backs and the terror fresh in their hearts.
Now, she was no longer that noble lady. That life was dead, burned to ash along with her family's estate.
Now she was just a commoner, a teenage girl trying to survive in a world that had crushed her and everyone she loved. She humbly searched for work, relying on her beauty to land a position at this maid café, because no one else would hire a teenage girl with no connections, no references, and no proof of anything other than her willingness to work.
The café was the only place that would take her. They needed beautiful young girls, young women with pretty faces and pleasing smiles, to attract the otaku customers who got off on watching young girls in maid uniforms serving them drinks and calling them "master" with fake, syrupy sweetness.
It wasn't dignified. It wasn't what she had dreamed of as a child. But it paid the bills. Barely.
As for her younger twin sister...
Honestly, Noelle greatly despised her. Despised the way she had abandoned their shared suffering, their shared loss, to chase after wealthy noble boys who could give her a comfortable life. Despised the way she pretended the past didn't exist, pretended their family hadn't been murdered, pretended she was just an ordinary girl who deserved happiness.
They lived completely different lives now. Noelle lived in a low-income area, renting a cramped, run-down house, doing her maid café job during the day and taking on any other hard labor she could find during the night just to scrape together enough money to survive.
Her sister, meanwhile, lived comfortably, dressed in fine clothes, and never worried about where her next meal would come from.
Noelle was utterly unaware of her destiny, unaware of her status as a heroine of this world, unaware that forces far greater than herself were slowly, inevitably moving into position around her.
Now, her name was Noelle Betre. A common name. A forgettable name. A safe name.
She was living her usual, exhausting, thankless life, going through the motions day after day, when she noticed him.
A new customer.
A handsome boy with striking blonde hair and piercing emerald eyes. He sat in the corner of the café, sipping his drink slowly, and watched her.
Just... watching. Calm. Patient. Like he was studying something interesting and had all the time in the world.
It was unsettling.
What the hell did he want?
She didn't know. So she ignored him. Or tried to, anyway. But this went on for a full week. He came back every single day, ordered the same drink, sat in the same corner, and watched her with those unreadable emerald eyes.
He never spoke to her. Never approached her. Never did anything other than exist in her peripheral vision, a constant, unnerving presence.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. The awkwardness was eating her alive. She decided to confront him privately, away from the prying eyes of the other customers and staff.
When he stood to leave—same time as always, same unhurried pace—she intercepted him at the door.
Her customer-service smile was gone. Her gentle maid persona had evaporated.
She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the quiet alley behind the café, out of sight, out of earshot.
She crossed her arms. Her amber eyes were hard. Her posture wasn't a maid's anymore—it was a street kid's.
Someone who'd learned to fight for what little she had.
"What do you want, boy?"
Her voice was flat. Unfriendly. The voice of someone who'd learned that strangers didn't do things without reason, and reasons were usually bad.
"You've been staring at me all week. I'm not stupid. So what is it?" She jerked her chin up.
"If you're looking for a girlfriend, you're wasting your time. Go find my sister instead. She's very welcoming toward handsome boys like you. She'd probably say yes before you finished asking."
The boy didn't flinch.
Didn't look offended.
Didn't even look surprised.
"Oh." His lips curved into a faint, almost amused smile. "Okay. I'll go find your sister instead."
He turned to leave.
Something in Noelle's chest lurched.
She grabbed the back of his shirt, her fingers twisting into the fabric, her knuckles going white.
"What?!" Her voice cracked—anger and panic and something she didn't want to name. "Are you seriously going to chase after my sister too? Is that all anyone cares about?!"
The boy stopped.
Turned his head just enough to meet her eyes over his shoulder.
"No." His voice was calm.
Steady.
"I just want to leave."
He paused.
Then, quieter:
"See you later, Noelle Zel Lespinasse. May we meet again next time."
Noelle's blood went cold.
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that only she could hear.
"Be wary of Loic Leta Barielle. He knows too."
And then he was gone.
Noelle stood frozen in the alley, her hand still outstretched, clutching air where his shirt had been.
Her mouth hung open.
Her heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat.
He knew.
He knew her real name.
He knew she was from House Lespinasse.
He knew about Loic—the son of one of the Great Houses, the man whose name she'd heard whispered in certain circles.
How?
How did he know?
And if he knew—if some stranger in a maid café could figure out who she really was—then who else knew?
Had he already reported her? Were the Great Houses already mobilizing? Would she and Lelia have to run again, abandon everything, start over in some other city where no one knew their faces?
She wanted to chase after him. She wanted to grab him and shake him and demand answers. She wanted to do something worse—something she didn't like to think about—to make sure he never spoke her name again.
But the alley was empty.
He had vanished like smoke.
"Master," Cleare pouted. "That's not how you flirt with a girl. Not even remotely close. I don't think you flirted at all, actually. You just... terrified her and left."
"Yeah, that's not flirting. I know." Arthur walked calmly through the streets, his hands in his pockets, his expression unbothered.
"But from now on, she'll be wary of strangers. She won't see Loic Leta Barielle as someone trustworthy just because he's handsome and wealthy. My goal is achieved, Cleare. That's all that matters. We won't be staying in this place for long. We're going back to the Holfort Kingdom soon."
Cleare tilted her holographic head. "Loic Leta Barielle? He's the son of one of the Great Houses, isn't he? What does he have to do with that girl?"
"In the future," Arthur said calmly, "he will cause her great harm. Great, terrible, irreparable harm. But I can warn her. I can plant a seed of doubt. I will save anyone I can save when I encounter them. I will warn them. After that, whether they listen or not, whether they act on my warning or ignore it, let fate decide the rest."
He shrugged. "That's not my problem, Cleare. I did my part."
Cleare didn't ask what great harm Loic would bring to Noelle.
She knew better than to push.
Her master was not someone who explained everything in great detail. He gave her the pieces, the fragments, the hints, and expected her to assemble them herself.
But this was enough. More than enough, really.
She floated beside him in comfortable silence as they walked side by side through the bustling streets of the Republic, leaving Noelle Zel Lespinasse behind, along with whatever fate had in store for her.