The Royal Gardens were designed for romance.
Moonlight filtered through the silver leaves of the Star-Kissed Trees. Luminescent flowers bloomed in soft rhythms of pink and blue. It was the designated "Confession Spot" for the game's main routes.
I was currently using it to hyperventilate behind a statue of the First King.
Okay. Okay. Deep breaths.
I checked my minimap.
[Stealth Mode: ACTIVE][Detection Risk: 15%]
I adjusted my heavy velvet cape. Being a villain meant my "Casual Wear" still weighed twenty pounds and had unnecessary spikes on the shoulders.
I rounded the corner to the secluded gazebo, prepared to keep up the charade if anyone was watching. I practiced my scowl.
But when I entered the clearing, the "Saintess" wasn't praying. She wasn't gazing at the moon.
She was sitting on the marble bench, legs spread wide in a very unladylike squat, aggressively massaging her ankles. Her high-heeled glass slippers—a legendary item meant to boost Charm by +50—were thrown into a rosebush.
"Stupid devs," she was muttering, poking her swollen foot. "Who designs a hitbox for a shoe? Why does it have durability damage on my skin?"
I froze. The image of the holy maiden cursing out game developers was so jarring I forgot to be terrifying.
"Saintess," I said, my voice naturally deep and echoing.
She jumped three feet in the air.
"Holy hell!" She scrambled to grab her shoes, then realized it was me. She slumped back onto the bench, letting out a groan that sounded like a dying engine. "Oh. It's you. The Boss Monster."
I walked into the gazebo, checking the perimeter. "Coast is clear. No NPCs."
The tension in her shoulders vanished instantly. She patted the spot next to her.
"Sit down, Duke. Or whatever your name was. I'm Elara. Well, I was Sarah. I worked in IT."
I sat down, keeping a respectful distance because my [Aura of Dominance] was starting to wither the nearby tulips.
"I'm Ashen," I said. "I was a college student. Major in Computer Science. Minor in... playing this stupid game."
She looked at me, eyes narrowing. "Wait. You played Arcanum Regalia? A guy?"
"I liked the combat system!" I defended myself. "And the lore was deep! I wrote the Wiki page on the magic mechanics!"
Elara's jaw dropped. "You're Wiki-Guy? The one who calculated the frame data for the final boss fight?"
"Yes," I admitted shamefully. "I calculated exactly how to kill... well, me."
She burst out laughing. It wasn't the polite "Ohoho" of a noblewoman. It was a snort-laugh.
"That's poetic justice, dude. I was a Guild Leader. Top 10 server ranking. I spent real money on the gacha to get the Saintess card, and now I am her, and I hate it. Do you know how heavy this dress is? It has six layers. Six."
[Affection Meter Unlocked][Saintess Elara: 55/100 (Kindred Spirit)]
I looked at the floating number above her head.
"I can see your stats," I said.
"I can see yours too," she countered, pointing at the air above my head. "It's... weird. Everyone else has a pink 'Love Meter.' You have a black bar that says 'Doom Counter.' And it's really high."
I grimaced. "94%. It dropped a bit after you didn't denounce me in the ballroom."
"Show me your UI," she demanded.
We leaned in, heads together, looking at empty air. To an outsider, it would look like an intimate romantic moment. In reality, we were comparing HUDs.
"Okay," she said, swiping through her invisible menu. "My objective is [Capture the Heart of the King]. If I fail, I get the 'Bad End,' which is exile to a nunnery."
"Mine is [Survive]," I said, pointing to my blinking red quest log. "If I fail, I get decapitated. Usually by you."
She shuddered. "I don't want to kill you. You're the only person here who understands what a 'hitbox' is. If I kill you, I'll be stuck listening to the Prince talk about his 'burning soul' for the rest of my life. It's cringe, Ashen. It's terminal cringe."
We sat in silence for a moment, the gravity of our situation settling in. Two modern souls trapped in a script designed to mash us together like action figures.
"Alliance?" I offered, extending my hand.
She looked at my hand. It was clad in a gauntlet made of black dragon scales. Sharp claws tipped the fingers.
"Alliance," she agreed, shaking the metal claws carefully. "But we have to play the roles. If we break character too much in public, the System shocks us. Did you feel that jolt in the ballroom?"
"Yeah. Felt like a taser."
"So publicly, we are enemies," she plotted, her eyes gleaming with gamer logic. "I'll pretend to be disgusted by your evil. You pretend to be obsessed with corrupting me. But secretly, we steer the plot away from the Death Flags."
"The Golden Trash Pair," I muttered.
"Hey, don't knock it if it works." She put her glass slippers back on, wincing. "Okay, Phase 1 is the Academy Arc. It starts next week. We need to make sure you don't accidentally kill a student during the placement test."
"I'll try," I said. "But my mana stat is infinite. It's hard to control."
"I'll buff you with 'Holy Dampening' before the test," she suggested. "It lowers stats. Usually, it's a debuff, but for you, it's a safety lock."
"Smart."
"I know. That's why I was the Guild Leader." She stood up, smoothing her dress. "Alright, Boss. I have to go back before the Prince starts writing poetry about my absence."
She turned to leave, then paused. She looked back over her shoulder, the moonlight catching her hair perfectly. For a second, she looked exactly like the Saintess she was supposed to be.
"Hey, Ashen?"
"Yeah?"
"It's nice," she whispered. "Not being alone."
My heart did a weird flip. Not a System shock. Just a... human flip.
"Yeah," I replied, my voice softening. "Same."
She smiled—a real one this time—and vanished into the bushes.
I sat there for a minute, letting the dopamine of survival wash over me. I had an ally. I had a plan. I wasn't going to die.
I stood up to leave.
Snap.
The sound of a twig breaking came from the shadows behind the gazebo.
My blood froze.
[Passive Skill Triggered: ENEMY DETECTION]
Someone was there.
Someone had been there the whole time.
I spun around, my cape flaring, adopting my "Villain Pose" instantly. My eyes glowed red in the dark.
"WHO GOES THERE?" I boomed, channeling maximum intimidation. "COME OUT AND FACE YOUR DOOM, EAVESDROPPER!"
A figure stepped out from behind a large oak tree.
It wasn't a guard. It wasn't the Prince.
It was a small, trembling girl with thick glasses and a notebook that was twice the size of her head. She was wearing the uniform of the Royal News Gazette.
She wasn't scared. She was... drooling?
Her quill was moving across the paper at the speed of light.
"Forbidden love..." she muttered, her eyes wide and manic. "The Saintess and the Villain... A secret meeting in the moonlight... The tension! The scandal! The pure spice!"
She looked up at me, adjusting her glasses.
"Don't worry, Your Grace!" she squeaked. "I won't tell the King! This is far too good for the front page! This goes in my Premium Fanfiction Subscription tier!"
[New Character Detected][Name: Penny the Scribe][Role: Gossipmonger / Plot Chaos Agent]
I stared at her.
"Wait," I said, dropping the villain voice. "What?"
"I ship it!" she shrieked, and then she bolted into the night like a raccoon that had stolen a shiny object.
I stood alone in the gazebo.
[System Notification][New Rumor Generated: "The Duke and the Saintess: A Love That Burns hotter than Hellfire."][Reputation: Confused.]
"...Crap," I whispered.