I was there that night.
Not as a noble.
Not as an honored guest.
Just a commoner standing at the edge of the Royal Magic Academy's grand hall. Even so, the clothes I wore that evening were far from modest. They were finer than what some of the nobles in attendance had on.
Of course. I did not spend eighteen years living in this world without preparation.
Crystal lamps glittered overhead, the laughter of young nobles filled the room, and wine flowed as though this world had never known suffering.
Then that voice rang out.
"I, Prince Leonhart von Asteria, hereby annul my engagement."
A line I had memorized since my previous life.
The entire hall froze.
I turned toward the great staircase in the center of the room, and there I saw the three of them. Veralyn stood at the foot of the stairs, her face drained of color. At the top, the prince held Alicia close with a smile that made my stomach turn.
The moment I had been waiting for over eighteen years had finally arrived.
Even though I had prepared everything, my heart still pounded harder than I would have liked. My fist clenched inside my pocket, trying to hide the trembling.
When the accusations were thrown, whispers began to fill the hall. Words like "cruel," "jealous," "deserved it." All directed at one person.
Then the fire appeared.
Small. Quick. Almost like a reflex.
I knew exactly what it meant.
In the game, this was the moment where everything ended for Veralyn. The point where the villain was brought down and the story played out according to its predetermined script.
The flame curved mid-air with control far too precise to be called an accident. A blue light appeared, a magical barrier formed, and everything unfolded exactly as I remembered.
"Veralyn Silvercrown, for your crimes, I sentence you to death."
Those words fell like a hammer.
Silence pressed down on the entire room. No one moved. No one breathed.
"Mercy, Your Highness."
That voice came from my own mouth.
Several heads immediately turned. Stunned whispers spread among the guests. A commoner, daring to speak up at a time like this.
My heart was pounding.
But I had rehearsed this scene countless times in my head. Every possibility. Every response. Every opening.
I took one step forward and bowed my head low.
"Your Highness is being too hasty," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "That was nothing more than a small flame. A spell that could not have harmed anyone."
The silence felt suffocating.
I could feel the prince's gaze boring into me, heavy and cold.
"Are you questioning my judgment?" Leonhart's voice cut through the air.
"I would never dare," I replied quickly. "Your Highness blocked that fire with ease. Surely you know that spell was not lethal. Even a slime could survive a flame that small."
Some of the nobles fell quiet.
A few looked disapproving. Others seemed more bothered by the fact that a commoner had the nerve to speak so boldly.
Then, the anger erupted.
"Enough!" the prince's voice thundered across the hall. "She is my future queen. A mere intent to harm her is enough to warrant a death sentence."
I drew a long breath, forcing myself to stay on my feet.
"But to sentence a noblewoman to death," I said, my voice trembling faintly yet still carrying across the room, "let alone someone from a ducal family, without a proper trial... that is a reckless decision, Your Highness."
This time, the silence that fell was different.
Not the silence of fear. It was the silence of people beginning to think.
Every gaze slowly shifted toward the Silvercrown family's seats.
I waited.
Just one voice.
Just one objection.
But there was nothing.
No one stepped forward.
No one opened their mouth.
Veralyn's family stood in silence, as though the woman was not part of their blood.
My chest turned cold.
Seeing that, a thin smile crept onto the prince's face.
"Oh?" he said softly. "A lowborn wants to be treated like a true noble? Do not make me laugh."
Whispers immediately flooded the hall.
"So the rumors were true..."
"The daughter of a maid..."
"No wonder..."
Those words cut deeper than any spell ever could.
I glanced at Veralyn.
She was still standing tall. Her face was pale, but her eyes held no plea. No tears. No attempt to defend herself.
My chest tightened.
If I did not act now, everything would end here. Exactly like in the game. And I did not spend eighteen years preparing just to let that happen.
"In that case," I said, my voice carrying across the hall that was still buzzing with whispers, "I will buy her life with money."
The entire room went silent.
Completely silent.
Several nobles turned with disbelief written across their faces. A commoner. Talking about money. In front of a prince.
Some even let out quiet laughs, assuming it was a bad joke.
Leonhart's expression hardened.
"You think I care about money?" he said coldly. "This is a matter of life."
I swallowed hard, but still took one more step forward.
"I know Your Highness does not care for gold," I answered calmly. "But I also know the kingdom's laws."
The whispers returned, quieter this time, more cautious.
"Under the kingdom's criminal law," I continued, "a crime that has not resulted in any loss of life may still be redeemed through compensation. Including attempted assault."
I pulled a small pouch from beneath my clothes.
Its contents spilled onto the floor with the heavy sound of metal.
One hundred gold coins.
My final move. The card I had prepared in case the prince refused to withdraw his sentence.
The gold reflected the crystal light from the ceiling above. Several nobles instinctively drew a sharp breath. That amount was not just large. It was a sum that even a mid-ranking noble would not part with lightly.
"In accordance with the law," I said, "I offer this as redemption for her offense. Veralyn Silvercrown, for one hundred gold coins."
Silence pressed down once more.
Leonhart narrowed his eyes.
"It seems you have forgotten something," he said. "If she has harmed a queen, the crime cannot be redeemed."
I nodded slowly.
"Of course," I replied. "If she were a queen."
I glanced briefly at Alicia, then turned back to face the prince.
"But in the eyes of the law," I continued, softly yet clearly, "she is still only a queen-to-be."
That single sentence dropped like a stone into still water.
And for the first time since the night began, the prince's face showed something other than anger.
Defeat.