Echo 6 – Crimson Reverence. [12.0. Scarlet Requiem]
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On November 26, 2024 By Fang Dokja In Arc 12. Scarlet Requiem
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This story contains mature themes and situations that may be distressing or triggering for some readers. The following content warnings apply:
1. Violence and Threats of Violence – There are discussions of assassination, duels, and physical harm that may be unsettling.
2. Murder and Assassination – The story references possible death or harm to characters in the context of power struggles.
3. Alcohol Consumption – Characters drink heavily in social settings, with one character’s drinking behavior specifically being dangerous and manipulative.
4. Death Threats and Dark Humor – The narrative includes dark humor about death and self-preservation, which some may find morbid.
5. Anxiety and Panic – Several characters experience moments of anxiety, fear, and pressure under high-stakes situations, which might be distressing to sensitive readers.
6. Manipulation and Betrayal – Themes of manipulation, betrayal, and trust issues are explored, potentially invoking feelings of unease.
7. Violence in Social Contexts – Characters discuss various forms of violence, including poisoning and forced decisions, with some of these scenarios being unsettling or uncomfortable.
8. Emotional Isolation – Characters may feel isolated, with emotional detachment and cold interactions being central to some relationships.
9. Emotional Abuse: The story includes instances where characters experience emotional manipulation, exhaustion, and distressing power plays in personal and political relationships.
10. Political Intrigue: Themes of betrayal, backstabbing, and cutthroat politics are central to the plot, with characters using others for personal gain.
11. Violence & Threats: There are subtle threats of violence, both physical and psychological, including dangerous political confrontations.
12. Sexual Themes: The story contains references to sexually explicit power dynamics, including domination/submission relationships and references to the emotional toll of such interactions.
13. Disturbing Family Dynamics: There are tense, emotionally charged relationships within families, involving control, suspicion, and power struggles.
14. Trauma and Mental Strain: The narrative includes characters experiencing significant mental and emotional strain, including moments of self-doubt, guilt, and trauma.
15. Dark Humor: The narrative includes dark and sometimes twisted humor, often referencing power struggles and survival within a high-stakes environment.
16. Mature Themes and References to Dominance: Some of the dialogue and inner monologue includes adult themes of dominance and submission, and potential abusive power dynamics.
17. Dark Humor: The narrative includes dark and sometimes twisted humor, often referencing power struggles and survival within a high-stakes environment.
18. Sexual Content and Power Imbalance: The story alludes to sexualized language and power imbalances, particularly in reference to characters’ interactions and the implications of their roles.
19. Cynicism and Social Hierarchy: The narrative tone is often cynical, reflecting the dysfunctionality of the imperial court and the social stratification within the setting.
20. Violence and Torture: Detailed descriptions of physical and psychological abuse, including acts of torture, violence, and manipulation.
21. Psychological Trauma: Exploration of themes surrounding mind-breaking and psychological abuse, with characters enduring severe emotional and mental distress.
22. Death and Self-Harm: Multiple references to death, both physical and psychological, as well as themes of self-harm and suicidal ideation.
23. Sexual Abuse and Degradation: Explicit scenes involving sexual violence, power dynamics, and degradation.
24. Toxic Relationships: Depictions of controlling and manipulative behaviors in relationships, particularly those involving extreme power imbalances.
25. Disturbing Language and Imagery: Use of foul and degrading language that may be unsettling or offensive to some readers.
26. Mental Illness: The portrayal of certain characters with severe psychological instability, including signs of narcissism and psychopathy.
27. Gore: Descriptions of blood, mutilation, and other graphic scenes of physical harm.
28. Sexual Violence and Abuse: Includes graphic depictions of non-consensual sexual acts, manipulation, and emotional abuse.
29. Psychological Abuse and Gaslighting: Contains themes of intense emotional manipulation and mental torment that may be distressing.
30. Physical Violence and Torture: Descriptions of physical abuse, including whipping, branding, and other forms of bodily harm.
31. Gore and Extreme Violence: Detailed descriptions of graphic violence, injuries, and death, including the mutilation of bodies.
32. Dehumanization: Themes of characters being treated as objects or possessions, rather than human beings, leading to extreme psychological and physical distress.
33. Dark Themes of Possession and Control: Includes manipulation through power dynamics, control, and the treatment of individuals as property.
34. Profanity and Foul Language: Frequent use of explicit language throughout the narrative.
35. Unresolved Tension and Ambiguity: The narrative leaves many conflicts and motivations unclear, which may create unease for readers expecting more concrete resolutions.
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Status: Draft #1
Last Edited: November 26, 2024
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Bella shifted in her seat, adjusting the hem of her dress for the thousandth time since they’d started this infernal carriage ride. Outside, the streets of the imperial capital unfolded like a living painting, brimming with color and activity. Streamers fluttered from every lamppost, street vendors shouted over one another, and a faint melody of flutes and tambourines drifted through the air. It was cheerful, boisterous, and—if Bella was honest—nauseatingly loud.
She glanced to her right at Grace Khan, her so-called maid and the closest thing to a security blanket this godforsaken game had to offer. Grace sat ramrod straight, her hands resting lightly on her lap, her posture impossibly perfect despite the jostling of the carriage. Her black and white uniform was immaculate, the crisp lines of her apron as sharp as her piercing blue-green eyes, which Bella swore could see straight into her soul. If Bella had to describe her in a word, it would be formidable.
The problem with Grace, of course, was that she spoke like an IKEA manual come to life. Efficient, thorough, and completely devoid of emotional context.
Bella leaned her head back against the plush seat, groaning. “Grace, tell me something to make me feel better about the fact that we’re heading into a pit of vipers dressed as a damn buffet.”
Grace didn’t blink. “If you avoid prolonged eye contact with the Archduke and keep at least one person between you and him at all times, you should survive the evening.”
Bella let out a dry laugh. “Ah, yes. Survival tips. My favorite flavor of comfort.”
Grace tilted her head ever so slightly, her expression as unreadable as always. “Would you prefer reassurance or tactical advice?”
“Tactical advice, obviously,” Bella grumbled, watching as a group of children dashed by outside, chasing a bright red kite. “Reassurance is useless. What are you going to say? ‘Don’t worry, Bella, you probably won’t die immediately’? No thanks.”
Grace nodded, her voice calm and measured. “Very well. Tactical advice: avoid the Emperor’s inner circle unless directly approached. They are highly skilled in political manipulation and will exploit any perceived weakness. Additionally, should you find yourself near Captain Knox Kingston, refrain from accepting any drinks he offers.”
Bella frowned. “Drinks? Why? Are they poisoned?”
“No,” Grace replied. “But they will be exceptionally strong, and he has a habit of convincing people to make regrettable decisions while intoxicated.”
Bella sighed, rubbing her temples. “Great. So I’ll just avoid the Emperor, the Archduke, and the pirate captain. That only leaves… what, the war hero and the magician?”
“Correct,” Grace said. “Jade Ohara is the most likely to intervene if you are in danger, but his presence may draw attention to you. Silas Alejandro is less socially intrusive but requires careful navigation, as he tends to lose track of time during conversations about magical theory.”
Bella stared at her. “You make it sound like he’ll accidentally lecture me to death.”
Grace’s lips twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but Bella swore it was close. “Only if you interrupt him mid-sentence. He takes offense to being cut off.”
Bella groaned again, leaning her head against the window. The glass was cool against her forehead, a small relief from the growing headache that came with the thought of juggling these men and their various flavors of chaos.
The carriage hit a bump, and Bella jolted upright, scowling. “Alright, Grace, hit me with the worst-case scenarios for the ball. I need to mentally prepare.”
Grace folded her hands neatly in her lap. “The worst-case scenario is assassination, followed closely by public humiliation and political exile. However, it is unlikely all three will occur simultaneously.”
“Wow,” Bella deadpanned. “Thanks. So reassuring.”
“You’re welcome,” Grace replied smoothly. “I suggest prioritizing self-preservation over social maneuvering. For example, if you must choose between insulting a minor noble and accepting a dance with the Archduke, I would recommend the former. Minor nobles rarely hold grudges for more than a decade.”
Bella let out a sharp laugh, despite herself. “A decade? That’s… oddly specific.”
“Human nature is predictable when observed over time,” Grace said, her tone utterly matter-of-fact.
The carriage slowed as they approached the grand gates of the Imperial Palace. The festive chaos of the streets gave way to a more orderly, if no less opulent, display of wealth and power. Rows of guards in gleaming armor lined the entrance, their halberds glinting in the late afternoon sun. The gates themselves were enormous, wrought iron and gold, opening slowly as the carriage rolled forward.
Bella felt a knot tighten in her stomach. The ball hadn’t even started, and she was already questioning every life choice that had led her to this point.
“Grace,” she said quietly, her voice uncharacteristically serious. “What are the odds of me getting through this without triggering a death flag?”
Grace didn’t hesitate. “Low.”
Bella snorted. “You really suck at pep talks, you know that?”
“I’m not programmed for pep talks,” Grace replied, her tone just shy of sarcastic.
The carriage came to a halt, and Bella took a deep breath, smoothing her dress and trying to ignore the rising panic clawing at her chest. She glanced at Grace, who was already poised to step out and open the door.
“Well,” Bella muttered, half to herself, “here goes nothing. If I don’t make it out alive, tell the chat they were right about Light Valor being the worst.”
Grace’s voice was calm, almost soothing. “I’ll make sure they erect a monument in your honor.”
Bella burst out laughing, the sound carrying her out of the carriage and into the glittering chaos of the Imperial Palace.
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The carriage pulled to a smooth halt outside the gates of the imperial palace, its gilded frame catching the flickering torchlight like something out of a storybook. Bella leaned forward, peering out the window as her stomach churned unpleasantly. The palace was breathtakingly enormous, each spire and column drenched in gold and crimson accents that practically screamed, “Welcome to the house of power; don’t screw this up.”
Grace Khan, ever the stoic knight-maid-tutorial-deity that she was, didn’t seem fazed in the least. She stood by the carriage door, her sharp blue-green eyes scanning the crowd like a seasoned hawk looking for its next prey. Bella, on the other hand, felt like a rabbit at the edge of a field, acutely aware that a ball full of wolves waited for her just beyond the gates.
“You’ll be fine,” Grace said, her voice calm but firm as she opened the door. “Remember the key points.”
Bella stepped out onto the cobblestone courtyard, careful not to trip over her gown. It was a shimmering silver piece designed to catch the light just enough to be eye-catching but not ostentatious. The last thing she wanted was to make the wrong impression—or worse, to make any impression at all.
“Right,” Bella muttered. “Key points.”
“Do not engage with the Archduke unless necessary,” Grace began, ticking items off like she was reviewing a grocery list. “Do not drink anything handed to you by Captain Knox unless you’ve seen it poured. Avoid prolonged eye contact with Crown Prince Caesar unless you wish to initiate an entire political chess game you will undoubtedly lose. And, for the love of everything holy, if Prince Edward challenges you to a duel, decline.”
“Got it,” Bella replied, her voice tight. “No eye contact, no drinks, and no duels.”
Grace gave her a rare, faint smile, the kind that suggested she’d seen Bella ignore at least one of those rules in a past life. “You’ll be fine. I’ll stay close enough to intervene if necessary.”
“Good,” Bella said, clutching her silver clutch bag like it was a life preserver. “If I get poisoned or assassinated, I’m haunting you.”
Grace raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “You wouldn’t be the first.” She stepped back and inclined her head slightly. “The High Cardinal will guide you the rest of the way.”
Bella took a deep breath as she turned to see Velion Eleazar approaching from the entrance. He was an unfairly beautiful man, all golden hair and crimson eyes, the kind of ethereal handsomeness that probably made angels look like amateurs. He wore the ceremonial robes of the Crimson Church, but even the layers of formal embroidery couldn’t hide the aura of calm authority that radiated from him.
“Saint Campbell,” Velion greeted warmly, his tone as soothing as a lullaby. “You’re looking radiant this evening.”
Bella knew better than to believe him—she’d spent the last hour sweating through her preparations and nearly stabbed herself with a hairpin twice—but it was hard not to appreciate his effort. “Thanks,” she said, managing a shaky smile. “You look… very holy.”
Velion’s lips twitched with amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
As they began their walk toward the grand palace doors, Bella’s nerves threatened to bubble over. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, searching for some kind of distraction. “So… any last-minute advice before I throw myself into the lion’s den?”
Velion didn’t miss a beat. “Keep your answers concise but polite, avoid contradicting the Emperor unless absolutely necessary, and remember that your position as Saint affords you both power and scrutiny. If you find yourself overwhelmed, I will be by your side.”
Bella exhaled slowly. “Right. Concise, polite, no contradicting the Emperor, and don’t have a mental breakdown in front of everyone. Got it.”
They reached the enormous double doors of the palace, where a herald stood waiting with a scroll in hand. Bella’s chest tightened as the doors creaked open, revealing the dazzling opulence of the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast glittering light over a sea of nobles dressed in their finest silks and jewels. The sheer grandeur of the scene was enough to make her feel faint.
“Announcing,” the herald began, his voice echoing across the hall, “Archbishop Velion Eleazar, High Cardinal of the Crimson Church and Royal Advisor to His Majesty, and the Saint of the Crimson Church, Lady Bella Campbell!”
Bella swallowed hard as all eyes turned toward them. Velion offered her his arm, and she took it, her grip probably a little tighter than necessary. He led her down the grand staircase with the poise of someone who had done this a thousand times before, while Bella focused on not tripping over her own feet.
At the base of the staircase stood the imperial family, each one a flawless embodiment of power and elegance. Emperor William Charlemagne, an older man with a commanding presence, was seated at the center, flanked by Empress Delilah, whose sharp eyes missed nothing. Beside them stood Crown Prince Caesar, his calculating gaze locked onto Bella like she was a puzzle he intended to solve. The younger princes and princess lingered nearby, each radiating their own brand of charisma.
Bella felt like a mouse standing before a pride of lions. She managed a curtsy, her mind racing to remember the proper protocol. Velion, ever the epitome of grace, bowed deeply and spoke with quiet authority. “Your Majesties, it is an honor to present the Saint of the Crimson Church.”
Emperor William nodded, his expression unreadable. “Welcome, Lady Campbell. We trust the Church has prepared you well for your role.”
Bella straightened, forcing a steady smile. “It’s an honor to serve, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor studied her for a moment before his gaze shifted to Velion. “And we trust you’ll ensure her safety, High Cardinal.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Velion replied, his tone unwavering. “The Saint’s well-being is my utmost priority.”
Bella wanted to collapse into a chair and hide behind a decorative plant, but instead, she kept her head high and her smile intact. This wasn’t a game anymore; it was real. And she wasn’t about to let herself become another casualty of the court.
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Bella stood with Velion before the imperial family, her every muscle tense as she dipped into a perfectly executed curtsy. Years of gaming instinct screamed at her to tread carefully in this moment. This wasn’t just any family; this was the lion’s den, and at the center of it was Caesar Charlemagne, Crown Prince of the Crimson Empire.
He was a masterpiece of manipulation wrapped in wolfish charm: long wavy, blood-red hair that fell in perfect waves below his waist, sharp golden eyes that seemed to peel back layers of a person’s soul, and an elegant posture that suggested both royal grace and the lurking predator beneath. Caesar didn’t just play the political game; he was the game, and Bella had no choice but to play her role carefully.
“Lady Bella Campbell, Saint of the Crimson Church.” His deep, smooth voice rolled out like silk, perfectly measured to command attention without raising suspicion. He bowed his head just enough to acknowledge her station, his eyes never leaving hers. “It’s an honor to meet the Saint chosen by the Crimson God.”
Bella forced a smile, careful not to show her nerves. Internally, however, her thoughts were running a mile a minute.
Oh no, he’s already doing the thing. The thing where he makes it seem like I’m the most important person in the room, but really, he’s just lining me up for a political power move. Don’t let him see you sweat, Bella. Remember the stats. Remember the guide.
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In-Game Reference: Caesar Charlemagne (Scarlet Requiem)
* Route Difficulty: Hard (Third hardest overall)
* Chaos Influence: Can stabilize the empire but at the cost of absolute court drama.
* Pros: Political juggernaut, stabilizes the empire, and provides access to the highest level of influence.
* Cons: Has an imperial harem. Manipulative, emotionally exhausting, and his affections are often a means to an end.
* R18 DLC Features: Extreme power play dynamics, public humiliation kink (mutual), and switch/submissive tension in private settings.
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Bella recalled every detail she’d learned while maxing out Caesar’s route in Scarlet Requiem. The political intrigue, the constant backstabbing, the wild, chaotic energy of trying to outmaneuver his harem… It had been one of the most stressful achievements in her gaming career. Sure, the payoff had been satisfying—turning the Crown Prince of the Crimson Empire into your loyal, whimpering dog? Iconic. But getting there? Exhausting.
Caesar smiled faintly, an expression that could melt a room—or send shivers down a spine depending on how well you knew him. “The Church’s presence is invaluable on this historic evening. Your support solidifies the unity of our empire.”
Translation: “You’re a useful chess piece, and I’ll be deciding how to use you before the night is over.”
“It’s an honor to serve the empire, Your Highness,” Bella said smoothly, ignoring the way her palms were sweating.
“I trust Archbishop Velion has been treating you well?” Caesar continued, his tone deceptively light. “His reputation precedes him, of course. A pillar of the Church and a paragon of virtue. Perhaps a rare moment of respite amidst all the chaos of court life?”
Velion, standing at Bella’s side like the world’s most dependable safety net, offered a polite nod. “Her Holiness has my full support, as always. The Church holds her well-being as our highest priority.”
There was an almost imperceptible flicker in Caesar’s gaze—a silent exchange between two men who clearly understood each other’s games.
Of course, Bella thought. Velion’s the only guy here who’s impervious to Caesar’s manipulations. It must drive him insane. If I could weaponize that, I’d be golden.
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In-Game Notes:
The family drama in Caesar’s route was legendary. The Emperor distrusted everyone, including his own sons, and the Empress wielded her influence with an iron fist. Caesar, as Crown Prince, was a master of maneuvering through this mess, often turning his family’s schemes against them. However, his greatest enemy was Archduke Light Valor, the Duke whose sheer power and influence rivaled even the imperial family.
The Archduke was widely despised by both nobles and commoners, known for his ruthless efficiency, vast wealth, and critical role in defending the empire from foreign threats. Naturally, Caesar saw him as a threat to the throne’s power, and their relationship was a constant battle of wits, threats, and occasional outright sabotage.
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Caesar shifted slightly, his gaze settling on Bella with unnerving precision. “I hope you’ll find the evening’s events enlightening, Lady Campbell. The empire thrives on unity, and tonight, we celebrate not only the coronation but the bonds that hold us together. Perhaps you’ll even find opportunities to deepen those bonds?”
Bella smiled, keeping her tone neutral. “I’ll do my best, Your Highness. After all, the Crimson Church is devoted to the empire’s prosperity.”
Translation: “I know what you’re doing, and I’m not walking into your trap.”
Caesar’s smile widened slightly, as though he enjoyed the game. “Excellent. I look forward to seeing how you navigate the court, Lady Campbell. It promises to be… intriguing.”
Bella suppressed a shudder. She was starting to think the game’s depiction of him as a “walking political bomb” might have been an understatement.
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Bella resisted the urge to glance nervously at Crown Prince Caesar Charlemagne as they moved through the grand ballroom. Her practiced smile never faltered, but internally, she was a roiling sea of thoughts, most of which circled around him.
Oh, Caesar. My golden-eyed nightmare. The crimson-haired wolf in sheep’s clothing. The walking political bomb.
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Game Lore: Crown Prince Caesar Charlemagne (Scarlet Requiem)
In Scarlet Requiem, Caesar’s route was infamous for its combination of high-stakes political intrigue, relentless court drama, and emotionally intense romance. He wasn’t the kind of character you romanced for fun; no, Caesar’s route was for players who wanted to flirt with danger and come out on top—or die trying.
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Bella mentally flipped through her internal dossier on Caesar, compiled from dozens of painstaking hours of gameplay:
* Romance Level: Ridiculously hard. Only two other routes were harder, and one of those involved literal demon contracts.
* Chaos Influence: Extremely high. As the Crown Prince and future Emperor, Caesar could stabilize the empire’s chaos level better than almost anyone—if you played your cards right.
* Pros: Political power, empire-wide influence, and a front-row seat to imperial decision-making.
* Cons: Court politics, his manipulative nature, and that damned imperial harem.
* R18 DLC Dynamics: He was a switch, but only after hours of tug-of-war power plays. Public play, domination battles, and moments of unexpectedly tender submission made the DLC an emotional rollercoaster.
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Bella sighed inwardly.
“Caesar’s route is basically like playing chess, except half the pieces are on fire and the other half are trying to stab you,” she muttered under her breath.
Velion glanced at her, his serene expression hiding his curiosity. “What was that, my lady?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, smiling. How do I explain to my moral support that I’m reliving the trauma of a fictional route where I got stabbed by a concubine and pushed out of a tower?
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The Imperial Harem Drama
The crown jewel of Caesar’s route—and the bane of Bella’s existence—was the imperial harem. The harem was a web of intrigue, sabotage, and backstabbing noblewomen who would have been excellent reality TV contestants if they weren’t so terrifying.
In-game, Caesar’s harem was populated by twelve concubines, each with their own political agenda. They weren’t just rivals for his affection; they were active participants in the empire’s cutthroat politics. Some worked for foreign powers, others sought to destabilize the empire, and a few just wanted to kill you because they didn’t like your dress.
“Fun fact,” Bella had once muttered during her third attempt at Caesar’s route, “half the concubines don’t even like him. They’re just here for the clout.”
Navigating the harem required a combination of diplomacy, subterfuge, and sheer luck. On one memorable occasion, Bella had successfully framed one of the concubines for treason, only to find out later that the woman had been secretly working to protect the empire. That was the nice part of Caesar’s route—everything was a moral quagmire.
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The Family Drama
If the harem wasn’t stressful enough, Caesar’s family added an entirely new layer of chaos.
The Emperor was a paranoid ruler who saw betrayal in every shadow, and he viewed even his sons with suspicion. The Empress, meanwhile, wielded her influence with ruthless precision, making her a master of court manipulation. Caesar’s siblings—Henry, Edward, Arthur, and Charlotte—were no less dramatic, each harboring their own ambitions and resentments.
“Oh, and let’s not forget the Archduke,” Bella muttered under her breath, earning another curious glance from Velion.
Archduke Light Valor was a walking power keg. He was hated by everyone, including the imperial family, but his military and economic strength made him indispensable to the empire. Caesar’s rivalry with the Archduke was one of the most tense and explosive aspects of his route.
In one particularly infamous ending, Caesar’s distrust of the Archduke led to a civil war that plunged the empire into chaos. Conversely, in another route, Bella had managed to broker a fragile alliance between the two—right before one of Caesar’s concubines poisoned her at the celebratory feast.
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The Romance
And then, of course, there was the romance itself.
Caesar wasn’t just manipulative—he was emotionally complex. Beneath his polished exterior lay a deeply wounded man who had grown up in a world of betrayal and power struggles. Trust didn’t come easily to him, and his affections were often veiled behind layers of political calculation.
But when you broke through those walls…
Bella shook her head, banishing the memory. She still hadn’t recovered from the first time she’d reached the True Love ending of Caesar’s route. The scene where he knelt before the protagonist, his golden eyes vulnerable for the first time, still haunted her.
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Conclusion: Great for Empire, Bad for Sanity
Bella’s mental assessment of Caesar remained the same:
* He’s a walking political bomb.
* The drama is exhausting.
* But, if you survive his route, you can literally make him your dog.
“Lady Bella,” Caesar said, his voice pulling her out of her thoughts. “Are you enjoying the festivities so far?”
Bella met his gaze, her smile never wavering. “Very much, Your Highness. The empire’s unity is truly something to be admired.”
He tilted his head slightly, a predator’s curiosity gleaming in his golden eyes. “Unity is a fragile thing, wouldn’t you agree? It must be carefully maintained—sometimes through sacrifice.”
Oh, Caesar, she thought. You and your damn metaphors.
Outwardly, she just nodded. “Indeed, Your Highness. But I believe even fragile things can become unbreakable with the right care.”
His smile widened, and Bella felt a chill run down her spine. She might have won this round, but in Caesar’s game, the stakes were always rising.
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Bella inhaled deeply, adjusting her posture as Archbishop Velion led her into the opulent throne room. The imperial family awaited them at the far end, a dazzling display of wealth, power, and good old-fashioned dysfunction. Every step toward them felt like walking into the lion’s den—or more accurately, into a pack of lions who would probably fight over who got to eat you first.
“Stay calm, Bella,” Velion murmured, his voice a gentle balm against the rising tide of her nerves. His red eyes softened as he glanced at her. “You’ve prepared for this moment. You’ll do wonderfully.”
“Prepared?” Bella whispered back, her pink eyes darting toward the Crown Prince standing at the Emperor’s side. “I’ve prepared, Velion. I’ve prepared so hard that I could recite every single ending to this game in my sleep. But now I’m here, in front of him, and my brain just keeps screaming ‘dog scene.’”
Velion blinked, his serene expression faltering for just a second. “Dog scene?”
“Nothing.” Bella straightened, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Focus, Bella. No one here knows you’re a filthy degenerate.
The imperial family loomed closer. Bella dipped into a deep bow as Velion followed suit. His movements were graceful, practiced, and exuded a natural sense of calm authority that Bella desperately wished she could borrow.
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The Charlemagne Parade of Dysfunction
“Your Imperial Majesty,” Velion began, his voice steady and formal as they addressed Emperor William Charlemagne, “and esteemed members of the imperial family, we thank you for the honor of your audience.”
Bella echoed him, keeping her head bowed for a beat longer than necessary. She wasn’t just being polite—she needed an extra second to stop herself from gaping at Caesar Charlemagne’s outrageously attractive existence.
There he was:
Crown Prince Caesar Charlemagne.
Blood-red hair that spilled like molten lava down to his waist. Golden eyes so sharp they felt like they could cut through steel—or through Bella’s lingering sanity. A smirk that said, I’ve won the game, and you don’t even know you’re playing it yet.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
God, the artists weren’t kidding, Bella thought. This game wasn’t just top-tier—this is “bankrupt-the-graphics-department” tier.
And that smirk. That smirk. Bella wanted to slap it right off his face, or maybe… step on him while he groveled and called her mistress.
No. Bad thoughts. Those were DLC thoughts. She bit the inside of her cheek.
“Lady Saint,” Emperor William’s booming voice brought her back to reality. “We welcome you and Archbishop Velion. The empire thrives with the blessings of the Crimson Church.”
Bella rose from her bow, offering her most angelic smile. “Your Majesty, it is the Church’s greatest honor to serve the empire.”
“Such a gentle voice,” Empress Delilah said, her tone silky and faintly patronizing. “And what a lovely appearance. You will no doubt bring great blessings to our nation.”
Bella resisted the urge to bristle. Why does she sound like she’s auditioning for ‘Best Backhanded Compliment of the Year?’
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Caesar: The Walking Red Flag in 4K Ultra HD
Bella’s eyes flicked to Caesar, who watched her with an expression of polite boredom—or at least, that’s what it would seem to anyone who hadn’t completed his route seventeen times.
She knew better.
That subtle quirk of his brow? He was analyzing her. The faint twitch at the corner of his mouth? He was already planning three different ways to manipulate her into doing his bidding.
“Lady Saint.” Caesar’s voice was smooth, rich, and laced with danger. He stepped forward, his golden gaze locking onto her like a predator sizing up its prey. “I trust the Church has been guiding you well as you prepare for your role here in the capital.”
Bella smiled, her tone as sweet as honey. “The Church has done everything in its power to ensure I am ready to serve, Your Highness.”
Translation: I’ve studied this game so hard I could probably write a dissertation on your bullshit.
“You must forgive my brother,” Prince Henry interrupted with a grin, leaning casually against a nearby pillar. “He has a habit of testing people the moment he meets them. It’s practically tradition at this point.”
Caesar shot his younger brother a look that could have melted steel, but Bella kept her smile fixed in place. Oh, Henry, you poor sweet idiot. Don’t provoke the dragon unless you’re ready to get fried.
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The Dog Scene Haunts Her Still
As the introductions and pleasantries dragged on, Bella’s mind kept flickering back to that moment.
The infamous DLC. Caesar kneeling, his crimson hair pooling on the floor around him like a river of blood, his golden eyes darkened with desperation.
“I am yours,” he had whispered, voice trembling. “Command me. Break me. Make me yours alone.”
The art had been gorgeous. The voice acting had been exquisite. The scene had been iconic.
And now, here she was, standing in front of that same domineering Crown Prince, and all she could think was: Would it kill you to say ‘woof’ just once for me?
“Lady Bella?” Velion’s voice brought her back to reality once again. He leaned closer, his tone low enough for only her to hear. “You’ve gone pale. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she lied, swallowing hard. “It’s just… I’m allergic to overwhelming charisma and long red hair. Especially when it’s attached to someone who could probably manipulate me into signing away my soul.”
Velion frowned, but before he could respond, Caesar’s voice cut through the room once more.
“I look forward to seeing how the Saint’s blessings shape the empire’s future,” Caesar said, his tone pointed. “The role you play will be… vital.”
Bella’s smile widened, saccharine and unyielding. “Of course, Your Highness. The Church exists to serve the empire and its people.”
Translation: I’m here to survive, not to become another one of your harem casualties.
----------------------------------------
The Exit, Stage Left
As Velion led Bella away from the throne room, she exhaled a long, slow breath. “Well,” she muttered, “that went better than expected. No concubines tried to stab me, the Emperor didn’t accuse me of treason, and Caesar didn’t outright declare me his next political pawn. Yet.”
“You handled yourself well,” Velion said, his red eyes warm with reassurance.
Bella nodded, but her mind was already racing. Surviving this court would be no easy feat. But if Caesar Charlemagne thought she was just another pawn, he was in for a rude awakening.
She smirked to herself. Let’s see who ends up begging on the floor this time.
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“Lady Saint,” Velion said, his voice warm and steady as ever, though Bella detected the faintest glimmer of mischief in his red eyes. “You’re free to explore the ball at your leisure. Should you need anything, either Grace or I will be nearby.”
Bella turned her head to glance at Grace, who was standing a polite distance behind them, hands folded neatly over her maid’s apron. Her expression was neutral, serene, and completely misleading. This was the same woman who had, earlier in the day, carried a broken cart off the road with one arm because “it was in the way.”
“Thanks, Velion,” Bella replied. She gave Grace a small smile. “And thank you, Grace, for… you know… existing and being terrifying enough to deter assassins.”
Grace curtsied elegantly. “It is my honor, Lady Saint,” she said in her soft, melodic voice, but Bella knew better. That voice belonged to someone who could and would suplex a man into next week if necessary.
With the reassurance that her personal safety was in good hands, Bella scanned the room. Aristocrats, nobles, military officers—it was a sea of wealth and power. Thankfully, no one particularly terrifying seemed to be present.
No Archduke Light Valor. No Captain Knox Kingston. No immediate signs of danger.
Perfect.
Bella’s gaze shifted toward the buffet table. A shimmering expanse of food stretched out before her, glittering like a beacon of salvation. Miniature tarts, golden-roasted meats, delicately arranged salads, and an entire chocolate fountain with fruits arranged in the shape of a phoenix. The Crimson Empire didn’t skimp on decadence.
She made her way to the table with all the grace and poise befitting her status, her pink eyes scanning for the least suspicious place to start. This wasn’t her first imperial ball—she knew how the political games worked. To the untrained eye, the buffet might look like just a spread of food, but in reality, it was a battlefield of power plays. Who ate what, how much they ate, and how elegantly they did it could all become fodder for court gossip.
Bella grabbed a plate and, with all the precision of a master strategist, began her campaign. She selected delicate pastries, a single slice of roast lamb, and a neat serving of roasted vegetables. Elegant. Refined. Innocent. She piled her plate in a way that screamed, I am a virtuous Saint, immune to gluttony.
And then she took a seat in a corner where no one was watching and inhaled it all like a starved raccoon.
The lamb was exquisite. Tender, juicy, and seasoned with something she couldn’t quite place. The pastries melted on her tongue, and the vegetables had been roasted to perfection. She’d cleared her plate in record time and was already eyeing the table for round two.
As Bella rose to return to the buffet, she felt Velion’s presence behind her.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“Thoroughly,” Bella replied, placing her plate back on the table and selecting a delicate fruit tart. “If the Church wants me to risk my life for world peace, I’m at least going to eat my weight in roasted lamb while I can.”
Velion chuckled softly. “A sound strategy.”
Bella returned to her seat, balancing her second plate with the grace of a professional. Grace appeared beside her moments later, silently setting down a goblet of sparkling juice.
“Thank you, Grace,” Bella said between bites of her tart.
“You’re welcome, Lady Saint,” Grace replied, her voice as calm as ever. “If anyone dares disturb your meal, I’ll handle them.”
Bella paused mid-chew, swallowing before she spoke. “What do you mean by ‘handle them’?”
Grace tilted her head slightly, her serene expression unwavering. “Whatever you prefer, Lady Saint. A verbal deterrent? Physical removal? Or should I simply… make them disappear?”
“…Let’s stick with verbal deterrents for now,” Bella said, deciding not to ask further questions.
By her third plate, Bella had finally hit her stride. She nibbled on a macaron while casting an idle glance around the ballroom. Most of the nobles were preoccupied with their own conversations, leaving her blissfully unnoticed. The only ones paying attention to her were Velion and Grace, and they seemed content to let her enjoy herself.
“Lady Bella,” Velion said as she polished off a skewer of honey-glazed chicken. “It’s rare to see you so relaxed. Perhaps you should indulge yourself more often.”
She smirked at him, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “Oh, I’m indulging plenty, Velion. Trust me, I’ve got this down to an art form.”
The Archbishop shook his head fondly, his golden blond hair catching the light. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”
“Happy?” Bella said, grabbing a spoonful of some kind of decadent pudding. “I’m thriving. This is peak diplomacy. I’m eating enough to make myself content, but not so much that I’ll be labeled a glutton. No one’s trying to kill me, and—”
Her words trailed off as a familiar figure entered the ballroom. Tall. Dark. Ominous.
Oh, no.
Velion noticed her sudden silence and followed her gaze. “Ah,” he said, his tone unreadable. “It seems Archduke Light Valor has arrived after all.”
Bella slowly set down her spoon.
“Grace,” she said, her voice low and calm, “how fast can you carry me out of here?”
Grace smiled faintly. “Faster than anyone else in this room could chase you.”
“…Good to know,” Bella muttered, bracing herself for the chaos that was undoubtedly about to unfold.
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
The moment Archduke Light Valor entered the ballroom, it was as though the air itself had thickened. The sounds of laughter, whispered conversations, and clinking glasses suddenly seemed to stutter and die. People didn’t need to see him to know he was there. His presence was like a heavy, suffocating fog—pressing against your lungs, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.
The announcement came shakily from some poor soul at the entrance. “Archduke Light Valor has arrived,” they stammered, barely managing to keep their voice steady.
Bella didn’t even need to look. She could feel the disturbance in the room, the collective shudder that ran through the crowd as if someone had just flicked the switch on a bomb. The Imperial family stiffened, their faces twisting into expressions of disgust, distrust, and barely contained loathing.
The Archduke had arrived. And the chaos would follow.
Of course, he was the one man who could single-handedly make everyone forget about any other threat in the room. Every character in the game—even the most handsome and powerful—was overshadowed by him. He was a murderer, a manipulator, a psychopath, a torturer, and he didn’t care who you were. Whether you were a child, an elderly noble, a pregnant woman, or a beloved hero, Light Valor would kill you without so much as a twitch of his eye. He was the walking embodiment of destruction, the black flag in the middle of every route, and the one guy whose sole purpose in the game was to ruin everything.
And what did his route promise? Oh, just torture porn at its finest. A cheater. A sadistic, megalomaniacal maniac with absolutely no redeeming qualities except… well, his face—and even that was the cruelest, most cursed thing about him.
Bella couldn’t help but roll her eyes internally as she felt his presence drawing closer. She was acutely aware of every pair of eyes now trained on the man in question. His towering, muscular body, perfectly honed and intimidating as hell. His short black hair, immaculately combed, yet some strands still managed to fall rebelliously across his forehead, like some tortured artist in a drama. His violet eyes—those eyes—piercing and cold with intricate patterns, like some dark omen, scanning the room with ruthless calculation.
God, why was he so sexy?
Bella clenched her jaw, her teeth nearly grinding together. She hated that he was so goddamn attractive. He was the kind of man who had the body of a Greek god and the personality of a damn snake pit. He was the kind of character that could break you down and make you beg, and still not care. The fan community was obsessed with him, but they had to ignore the glaring fact that he was a psychopath—just the way his route went.
Even now, as his presence bled into the room, she could feel it. The weight of it. The suffocating, oppressive pressure that made it impossible to think. Bella felt her heart rate spike just from the mere thought of him. She didn’t even want to look. But of course, she did, because her perverse curiosity couldn’t help it.
She glanced sideways. There he was, standing tall and dominating the entire room. He didn’t need to say a word. His mere posture screamed power—an aura so lethal it made every single person in the room tremble. Bella could see a few of the other nobles subtly shift their weight, as though readying themselves to flee if need be.
God, she hated him.
No, scratch that. She despised him. But there was something about his sheer malice, his complete lack of empathy, that made her want to scream in frustration. How was anyone supposed to deal with a man who could kill you with a flick of his wrist and still look like a million bucks doing it?
And why, oh why, was he so goddamn hot?
It was like the worst, most perverse joke. Archduke Light Valor was the most infuriating, dangerous, unredeemable asshole in the entire game. He was the reason half of the love interests in the game were dead. He was the catalyst for every major disaster, every death flag that popped up. His very existence was tied to the game’s inevitable downfall.
But in his route? Oh, it was even worse. A route filled with endless suffering, where the heroine’s only choices were to either kill him or kill herself. And if you killed him, he would kill you right back. If you killed yourself? That’s when you got the happy ending, because that’s exactly what the madman wanted: absolute control over everything and everyone.
Bella couldn’t help but close her eyes for a brief moment, her hand instinctively gripping the side of her plate. No one in their right mind should fall for him. He wasn’t a love interest—he was a disaster. The worst kind of disaster.
But here he was, his sheer presence forcing everyone in the room into silence, and even though people despised him, even the Imperial family couldn’t hide their disgust.
“Look at him,” Bella muttered to herself, though her lips barely moved. “How the hell did they make him the sexiest man in the game when he’s literally a walking death flag?”
She felt Grace stiffen at her side, but it wasn’t like the woman would ever speak up about her disdain for the Archduke. It wasn’t a sentiment anyone would dare express in front of him.
But Bella didn’t care. If there was one thing she could do, it was stay far away from him. As she slowly stood up, her eyes locked on to the Archduke from a distance, she could feel the tightening sensation in her chest. The cold shiver down her spine. And in that moment, she made a vow to herself.
Stay far away. Don’t engage. Don’t get anywhere near him.
Because if there was one thing that Bella Campbell knew for certain, it was that in a game where everyone died by his hand and every path led to bloodshed, staying alive was her first priority.
And Archduke Light Valor? He was a death sentence dressed in a suit.
═════════════════
Bella’s mind couldn’t help but drift back to that route. The Archduke’s route. The DLC. The worst, most insane, and gut-wrenching piece of content she’d ever endured in her life.
She could feel a shiver crawl up her spine just thinking about it. The very thought of his “route” made her stomach churn and her heart race in ways she didn’t want to think about too much. The whole thing had been a nightmare—a chaotic, blood-drenched nightmare that never seemed to end, no matter how many times she’d tried to finish it. Every route before had been bad enough. Archduke Light Valor was responsible for the death of every major love interest in each story, either by direct action or subtle manipulation. But his route? That was something else. It wasn’t just bad. It was evil in the purest, most unrestrained sense of the word.
The whole thing was a torture porn fest. There were no happy moments. No breathing room. The entire thing was just one horrific, stomach-churning scene after another. Torture, blood, misery—it was all part of the package deal when you went down that path. You could practically feel the bile rise in your throat with every mission, every new scene.
But why was he a love interest again? Why, oh why, did this game think that he was a romantic figure? It made absolutely no sense. A man who would willingly kill children, elderly, pregnant women, and—of course—major love interests, just because it suited his whims. A man who didn’t care what crimes he committed as long as they served his grand, twisted goals. And he was a love interest.
The route’s objective? Oh, just keep the heroine alive long enough so that you could make the choice between killing him or killing yourself. That was his “happy ending.” Or more accurately, the only ending that could be considered “happy” in the warped, sadistic sense of the term. Try to kill him, and you get a bad ending where he kills you instead. If you kill yourself? Well, congratulations, you get a “happy ending,” because in his sick, twisted mind, that’s what he wanted. The heroine belonged to him. She was his toy to play with, break, and destroy at will.
She could still hear the voice in her head—the one that haunted every single playthrough. His cold, detached voice, whispering things like “I love you.” The most messed up, perverse thing he could say while the heroine bled to death in his arms. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t affection. It was ownership. Pure, unadulterated ownership.
And Bella? Bella couldn’t even put it into words. How did people still love him? The fans who insisted, “Oh, I can fix him,” or “He’s misunderstood.” The nerve.
Because, let’s face it, Light Valor didn’t need fixing. He needed to be locked in a dungeon for the rest of his existence. His route didn’t even bother trying to redeem him. It was pure unfiltered evil—the kind that made you question the very notion of what a “love interest” could be. He was a monster wrapped in a handsome, perfectly sculpted shell. And his insanity? The Madness—the game’s most insane mechanic?
It was all tied to how much the Archduke “cherished” the heroine. Which, when you really thought about it, was a load of crap. Because the more “Madness” you racked up, the more he would entertain you. His idea of cherishing you was mind-breaking, torture, and leaving you so psychologically damaged that you had no choice but to play along with his sick little games.
And how did you keep the Madness up? Oh, easy. You just had to make him entertained. The sicker, the better. The more you suffered, the more you tortured others, the more he’d find it amusing. As twisted as it was, the goal was to keep your Madness high, because otherwise, he’d stop seeing you as a “toy” and start treating you like an afterthought.
But of course, in his world, everything was a game. Everything was just a test to see how far you could go before breaking. The whole thing was so messed up, so deeply wrong, that it felt like your soul was being ripped apart just by thinking about it.
And Bella? Bella wasn’t immune to his terrifying charm, even if she hated everything he stood for. She knew she shouldn’t feel the smallest bit of attraction to him. But there it was. That pull, that sickly fascination that every fan seemed to fall into. She wasn’t a pervert, okay? She wasn’t. But Light Valor’s sheer raw power, the dangerous, twisted edge to him—it was impossible to ignore.
But the worst part? The absolute worst part was his ability to charm the heroine while actively destroying her. He could kiss her like she was the most precious thing in the world, all while planning her inevitable destruction. He could fuck her in the most degrading way possible and make it feel like she was the only thing that mattered—before turning around and torturing her, or killing her, just to see how far he could push her before she shattered completely.
There was no romance in it. There was no “fixing” him. He was a monster, pure and simple. He didn’t care about anyone, least of all the heroine. To him, she was just another plaything.
It was a damn nightmare. A DLC nightmare that Bella couldn’t unsee.
“Why did I ever even start his route?” Bella muttered to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to will the images out of her mind. It was too much. Even now, the thought of that route felt like it was burning a hole through her brain.
But she couldn’t escape it. It was a part of the game. And now, she had to live with the fact that somewhere, deep inside, Light Valor’s sadistic little twisted heart still held a strange, horrifying appeal.
═════════════════
Bella shuddered as she forced herself to remember the countless moments from Light Valor’s route, but they kept flooding back. She could practically feel the bile rising in her throat, as her mind replayed every horrific scene like a broken record.
It was a twisted ride, a sickening descent into madness, and she couldn’t shake the memories of what the Archduke had done. It wasn’t just that he was a monster. It was that he was the monster, the kind that people couldn’t escape once they were ensnared in his cruel, manipulative grip. And even though she was safely out of his reach in this moment, Bella couldn’t escape the grotesque images from that DLC. It was like the very essence of evil had been distilled into the game’s code, and Light Valor was its personification.
First, there was the fact that he was an outright cheater. He didn’t care if he was with the heroine—hell, he didn’t care if she was standing right there, watching him with cold eyes. He’d kiss, fuck, and play with other women in front of her. He wasn’t even trying to hide it, flaunting his affairs as if it was a sport. “Oh, you don’t mind, do you? You’re my toy after all,” he’d smirk, his voice dripping with amusement. To him, the heroine was nothing more than a prop in his twisted game.
And it didn’t stop there. No, that was only the start of his depravity. He was a rapist through and through, treating sexual assault like some casual pastime, an item to tick off on his endless checklist of cruelties. And it wasn’t some cliché villainous act of power. He enjoyed it. Every single second of it. He would laugh in her face as he held her down, telling her that this was just another game he was playing. The heroine had no say. Her body, her autonomy, it didn’t belong to her anymore. It belonged to him.
But that wasn’t even the worst of it. No, it got far worse. The Archduke was an absolute master of manipulation. It was his charm, his sharp intellect, the way he could weave words into a labyrinth of confusion, making you question everything you thought you knew. He was so damn good at it, Bella almost couldn’t stand it. The way he could gaslight, making you believe that you were the problem, that you were the one who deserved all the punishment, that you were the reason everything was falling apart. It was an art form, the way he could make someone feel so worthless that they’d do anything just to earn his attention. It was disgusting, it was evil, and it was completely, utterly effective.
Then came his love for killing. The joy he took in murder—whether it was a random peasant or a beloved character, it didn’t matter to him. He could kill without hesitation, without remorse. A child? No problem. An old woman? Why not. A fellow love interest? Even better. Bella couldn’t even count the number of times he had butchered people in cold blood, casually deciding to end their lives as if they were nothing more than ants under his boot.
And then there was the part that made her blood run cold. The torture. Sure, the physical stuff was bad enough—whips, chains, the kind of violence that made you want to scream. But it was the psychological torment that broke you, that gnawed at your mind. He branded her like cattle. Locked her in a dark room for days on end, without food or water, just to watch her crumble. And when she was on the verge of starving to death, he gave her his piss and sperm to drink. The worst part? He didn’t even need to ask her to do it. He told her. He told her, and she had to comply. Every time she defied him, he punished her.
Then, of course, there were the spiked chains, the physical whippings, the bruises that would take forever to heal. But none of that compared to the psychological scars—the way he broke her down until she couldn’t even think straight. She was just a shell, a puppet in his hands, and he relished every second of it.
All of that—all of it—and yet, to him, the heroine wasn’t a person. She was a toy. Something to be broken, to be used, to be destroyed until he grew bored. But there was something far more disturbing about the way he treated her. He wasn’t just breaking her for fun. He was keeping her.
The happy ending? Oh, it wasn’t a happy ending at all. No, the theory was that once you finished his route, once you got that “happy” ending, he would preserve the heroine’s body. He would take her corpse and… well, there were fan theories that ran the gamut: necrophilia, cannibalism, body preservation, who the hell knew? It didn’t matter what the truth was. What mattered was that those theories made sense. After everything he did, after everything he’d put her through, it wasn’t far-fetched to think that he’d do something that disgusting. Because to him, she was never a person. She was never a partner. She was just his toy. And toys, in his world, didn’t get to live. They didn’t get to escape.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories, but they were relentless. Every scene, every disgusting thing he did was so ingrained in her mind that she could feel the weight of it pressing against her, suffocating her. She could still hear his voice.
“You’re mine.”
And the worst part? The part that made Bella want to vomit was that she couldn’t even call it a romantic moment. It was the most twisted, perverse thing she had ever witnessed. To him, love didn’t exist. It was just another method of control. His kiss, that final “I love you” while the heroine bled to death in his arms—it wasn’t love. It was ownership. It was possession. It was everything that was wrong with the game, all wrapped up in one chilling sentence.
She couldn’t even comprehend how someone could create such a monster. How the game designers thought this was an acceptable “love interest” route. And yet, here it was. The Archduke Light Valor, an embodiment of everything that was wrong in the world, and a clear reminder that not all love stories were meant to be told.
And as much as she hated it, Bella couldn’t shake the lingering, disgusted fascination she felt. Because no matter how vile he was, Light Valor was the best at being a monster. He was the one who broke every rule, every boundary, and left nothing but death and destruction in his wake.
═════════════════
Bella’s eyes narrowed as she watched the Archduke make his way toward the front. His presence, as always, was like a dark cloud looming over the room, and even though his expression remained impassive, the air itself seemed to shift with tension. He moved with such chilling composure, every step measured, every movement perfectly calculated to make people feel his overwhelming power. It was the kind of calm that could only come from someone who had seen—and caused—too much chaos to feel anything anymore.
As he reached the front of the room, the silence was deafening. Even the nobles who prided themselves on their ability to mask their discomfort couldn’t hide the unease creeping into their expressions. The imperial family—proud, regal, and accustomed to facing the finest of guests—looked visibly uncomfortable. The Emperor’s hand twitched on his armrest as though resisting the urge to reach for his sword. The Crown Prince’s jaw tightened, his golden eyes fixed on the Archduke with barely concealed loathing.
Light Valor, however, paid them no mind.
He gave a small, almost imperceptible bow. It wasn’t the kind of bow you’d expect from someone of his standing. No sweeping gestures or extravagant deference. It was cold, calculated, as if he were addressing a business partner rather than a family of royalty. His violet eyes flickered over them, devoid of warmth, devoid of anything resembling humanity.
“I am honored to be in your presence,” he said, his voice a smooth, almost melodic baritone. It was the sort of tone that could lull someone into a false sense of security if they weren’t paying attention. His words, though, were empty—hollow. Like a man who had learned the art of politeness only to use it as a mask to hide the darkness beneath.
The Emperor’s lips twitched, but there was no smile there. Just a stiff, barely contained disgust. “Archduke Valor,” he replied, his voice clipped. “Your presence is… appreciated.”
But it wasn’t. Bella could see it in their eyes. Even the Empress, with her perfect, poised smile, couldn’t completely mask the revulsion she felt. She glanced at her sons—Crown Prince Caesar and Prince Henry—neither of whom made any effort to hide their discomfort. In fact, Caesar’s golden eyes gleamed with an almost predatory intensity, but there was something more dangerous in his gaze. His eyes weren’t just cold; they were calculating, as if he was already deciding how best to handle the Archduke.
Light Valor ignored them all, his attention fully on the Emperor as he straightened from his bow. “I trust the festivities have been to your satisfaction, Your Majesty?”
The Emperor’s response was a tight-lipped, “It has been… pleasant enough.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Light Valor said, as though that small concession mattered to him. As if he wasn’t the one responsible for so much of the Empire’s suffering. As if he didn’t delight in the very misery he sowed.
The uncomfortable silence stretched on. The imperial family clearly wanted nothing more than to shove him out the door, but Light Valor seemed perfectly content to let the tension linger. Bella found herself holding her breath. She didn’t even realize she had been staring until her gaze caught the Archduke’s. His eyes flicked to her for just a moment, and a chill ran down her spine. There was no warmth in his gaze, no flicker of recognition—only cold, emotionless indifference. And yet, somehow, that gaze felt like a physical touch. Like he could see through her, to the very depths of her soul. It was unsettling, to say the least.
“Do you mind if I join the festivities, Your Majesty?” Light Valor continued, his voice still that same detached, soothing monotone. “I find it… invigorating to be surrounded by such… eager faces.”
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t immediately respond. No one spoke. The nobles around the room seemed to shrink away from his presence, unwilling to voice their discomfort, but unable to completely hide it.
Bella, however, couldn’t take it anymore. She muttered under her breath, the sarcasm slipping out before she could stop it. “Oh, yes, because what every party needs is a psychotic killer with the charm of a corpse.”
She knew better than to expect anyone to respond. But at least her words broke the silence—if only for a moment.
Light Valor turned toward her, his gaze like ice, but Bella didn’t flinch. She wasn’t going to let him see any more weakness. She couldn’t. Not with him.
“Ah, Bella Campbell,” he said, his voice like velvet, smooth and dangerous. “I didn’t realize you were so… vocal tonight.”
“Just keeping things lively,” Bella replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Wouldn’t want everyone to fall asleep while you’re around.”
Light Valor’s lips curled ever so slightly at the corners, though the expression was hardly one of amusement. “How… delightful,” he murmured. “But be careful, Miss Campbell. You might find yourself entertaining more than you bargained for.”
His words, though lightly spoken, sent a ripple of unease through her. It was like he was threatening her without actually saying anything. It was the same sickening feeling she’d gotten during his route—like a predator toying with its prey before it struck.
And yet, despite the blatant danger he presented, Bella stood tall, her posture straight and proud. She wasn’t going to let him get to her—not here, not now.
The Archduke turned away, and though his movements were slow, deliberate, they were anything but graceful. It was as though his body didn’t quite fit in the space he occupied, like a shadow too large for the room, casting its suffocating weight on everything.
No one in the room was willing to relax, but they all forced smiles and polite words, pretending to accept the presence of the most dangerous man in the Empire. The Archduke was an enigma—his calmness, his composure, the way he didn’t flinch at the growing disdain from everyone around him. He wasn’t just an antagonist. He was an unavoidable presence—a storm that everyone knew was coming but had no idea how to stop.
Bella knew that, no matter how much she despised him, she had to stay alert. The Archduke wasn’t someone who would simply go away. He never did. He lingered in the shadows, waiting to strike when least expected.
And she hated him for it.
═════════════════
The imperial family stood frozen as the Archduke approached. His movements were smooth, almost unnaturally so, and his expression was one of casual disinterest, as though he were merely going through the motions of a social obligation.
Emperor William Charlemagne, a man who had seen and endured many things throughout his reign, still stiffened imperceptibly as Light Valor came into full view. His cold violet eyes swept over the room, meeting no one in particular, as if he were already bored with the entire affair.
“Your Majesty,” Light Valor said, his voice as smooth and effortless as silk, but there was no warmth in it. No reverence. It was a mere acknowledgment of the other’s presence, like two strangers passing on the street.
The Emperor’s lips tightened into a thin line, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. “Archduke Valor,” he greeted with cool professionalism, his eyes betraying nothing but a brief flash of irritation. He had heard the rumors, seen the reports, and felt the weight of that man’s presence like a pressure on his chest. Still, he maintained the careful composure of a ruler. “I trust your journey was uneventful?”
Light Valor’s gaze flickered briefly over the Emperor, but his posture remained relaxed, almost disinterested. “Uneventful?” he echoed, his lips curving ever so slightly at the corners. “I suppose so.”
The Emperor barely contained a sigh. “I see.”
There was an uncomfortable pause that followed, one thick enough that even the most seasoned members of the imperial court felt the weight of it pressing down on them. The air around Light Valor was cold, as though a palpable darkness radiated from him, but he remained unphased. His aloofness was unnerving in its simplicity—no grand speeches, no false pleasantries. He was simply there, and that was far worse than any performance could have been.
Crown Prince Caesar shifted slightly, his usual charisma fading in the face of the Archduke’s calm. His golden eyes met Light Valor’s, and the two men locked gazes for a long moment. No words passed between them, but the tension was palpable.
“Father,” Caesar finally broke the silence, his voice measured, though there was a bite to it. “You must forgive my… unenthusiastic reception of our guest.” His words were thinly veiled contempt, but the Crown Prince managed to keep his smile in place, though it looked more like a grimace. “I trust you understand that some of us are not as eager to welcome such… esteemed guests.”
Light Valor’s gaze shifted to Caesar, and for the briefest moment, there was the faintest flicker of something behind those cold eyes—amusement, perhaps, or recognition of the challenge that Caesar presented. Yet, he merely nodded, as if acknowledging an insignificant remark from a mere passing acquaintance.
“Of course,” Light Valor replied, his voice as detached as ever. “I quite understand. I’ve never been the most… popular of visitors.”
The Emperor cleared his throat. “Enough,” he said, his tone cutting through the tension. “We all have our duties tonight. Let us not get lost in pleasantries.” His eyes flicked briefly to Light Valor, then back to his sons, as though silently reminding them of their roles in maintaining the decorum of the event.
Prince Henry, ever the quiet one, shifted slightly on his feet. “The evening will be long,” he said, his voice low. “And we are all here for a reason.” He shot a quick glance at his siblings, his usual solemnity in place.
Light Valor turned his gaze to Henry, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Indeed,” he murmured. “For reasons… of importance.”
It was a fleeting comment, but it hung in the air, as if he were speaking of something far darker than what was apparent to the casual observer. However, the royal family was well aware that when Light Valor spoke, there was always more beneath the surface—though it was rarely ever worth delving too deep.
Empress Delilah, who had been silent thus far, finally spoke up, her voice carrying the same ice-cold elegance she had honed over the years. “Archduke,” she began, her words crisp, though a sharp edge lay beneath them, “it is… always a pleasure to have such a distinguished guest in our midst.”
A flicker of something—perhaps indifference, perhaps annoyance—passed through Light Valor’s eyes, but he said nothing. Instead, he simply gave a half-hearted inclination of his head in her direction.
“Of course,” he said, his voice a soft, almost mocking undertone that barely lifted above the conversation. “A pleasure indeed.” There was no sincerity in it. There never was with him. It was just another line, delivered with the same level of disinterest he had shown everyone else.
Bella, watching from the edge of the gathering, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disbelief. How could someone like Light Valor, who had committed such atrocities, still carry himself like he was above all of this? It was as if he didn’t even care about the position he held, the power he wielded. He was here because he could be, because he felt no need to prove anything. And that, more than anything, made him more dangerous than any villain she had encountered. He didn’t need to scheme, to plan, to plot. He simply was, and that was enough to make everyone around him squirm.
The awkward silence stretched on, but it wasn’t for long. The conversation shifted away from Light Valor, as the imperial family dutifully turned their attention to other guests. But Bella could see it, just beneath the surface—Light Valor’s presence lingered in the room, a shadow that couldn’t be banished by simple pleasantries. He didn’t need to say much. He never did. His silence spoke louder than any words could. And that, perhaps, was the most unsettling thing of all.
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Light Valor offered a shallow bow, so half-hearted it felt more like a mockery of respect than any genuine display. He straightened, his movements lethargic and dripping with disdain. His violet eyes, devoid of any flicker of warmth, swept across the imperial family. He paused for a moment, as though contemplating whether they were even worth acknowledging further.
And then he spoke, his tone casual, almost bored. “Ah, and my sincerest apologies for the… inconvenience caused by my attempts on the Archbishop’s life earlier this week.”
The words dropped like a stone into a still pond. Gasps rippled through the crowd, the air thick with shock and horror.
Emperor Charlemagne’s face darkened, his usually calm expression giving way to a barely concealed fury. But before he could speak, Light continued, his lips curling into the faintest ghost of a smirk, as if relishing the unease his words had sown.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. Surely you didn’t expect anything less?” His gaze shifted, cold and calculating, as it landed briefly on each member of the imperial family before moving lazily toward the crowd.
When his eyes finally settled on Velion Eleazar—golden-haired and red-eyed, the cherished Archbishop who represented everything virtuous and noble—there was a distinct chill in the room. Velion stood as still as a marble statue, his usual serene smile absent. For once, there was no witty retort, no diplomatic deflection. He simply met Light’s gaze, his silence more telling than any words could be.
Bella felt her stomach drop. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. What the hell is going on? She clutched the edge of the buffet table, her knuckles white as her mind raced. Velion was supposed to be untouchable, a literal green flag in a forest of red ones. And Light Valor—he wasn’t supposed to start his killing games until after the common route. Yet here he was, casually admitting to attempted murder in front of the Emperor himself, as if it were a minor inconvenience, like forgetting an appointment.
Light’s eyes flicked in Bella’s direction for the briefest moment before returning to the imperial family. He let out a soft, almost amused hum before speaking again.
“Spread your rumors. Whisper your schemes. Allying the crown and the church against me?” He chuckled, low and cold, the sound sending shivers down spines. “It’s adorable. Like watching children playing at war in the gardens. But without the strength to back it up, what are you, really? Just noise.”
The crowd bristled, but no one dared to speak. His tone shifted, taking on an edge of frost that cut deeper than any blade. “Keep dancing, Your Majesties. Keep plotting. I’ll even let you entertain yourselves a little longer. After all…” He trailed off, his smirk fading into a mask of icy indifference. “I despise boredom.”
The room was deathly silent, every pair of eyes locked on the Archduke as he turned away. His movements were smooth, unhurried, like a predator that knew nothing could challenge him.
The crowd parted before him as though he were a storm sweeping through, unwilling to risk being struck by lightning. As he reached the exit, he paused, his hand resting lightly on the ornate doorframe.
“Do try harder next time,” he said without turning back. Then he was gone, disappearing into the imperial gardens as if he hadn’t just chilled the room to its very core.
For a long moment, no one moved or spoke. The silence stretched, suffocating and oppressive.
Bella’s mind whirled. She stole a glance at Velion, who still stood quietly, his face unreadable. Grace was by his side, her sharp gaze flickering toward the exit where Light had vanished. Even she seemed unusually tense, her normally unshakable confidence dimmed by the sheer audacity of the man who had just exited.
The Emperor finally broke the silence with a sharp, heavy sigh. His jaw tightened as he turned to Velion. “You should have said something,” he muttered, his voice low and clipped.
Velion inclined his head, his voice calm but lacking its usual warmth. “And what would you have me say, Your Majesty? That I was unprepared? That I underestimated him? The Archduke thrives on such admissions.”
The ugly expressions of everyone present were impossible to hide. The imperial family’s distaste was palpable, their carefully constructed masks of civility slipping.
Bella exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her forehead. What the actual fuck just happened? Her thoughts spiraled as she tried to make sense of it all. Light Valor wasn’t just playing the villain—he was owning it, rewriting the rules of the game before her eyes.
And the worst part? Nobody in that room, not even the Emperor, had the power to stop him.