Freya Allen Heavens.
The middle child of the prestigious Heavens family,and the only daughter.
The family had three children: two sons and one daughter, Freya.
While the youngest son was hailed as the greatest swordsman the kingdom, and possibly even the world, had ever known. the eldest was a brilliant mind, enriching the family legacy step by step, just like their father. The perfect heir.
And Freya herself?
She was the one pulling all the strings behind the scenes.
Unnoticed by anyone, Freya moved her pawns scattered throughout the entire kingdom. Using that small personal network, she gathered an arsenal of classified information, enough to bring entire noble houses to ruin or elevate them to power.
Just to paint the picture clearer: this girl had enough influence to sway the very decisions of the king himself at one point in the story. While everyone assumed the family's golden era and sudden wealth was all thanks to the firstborn's genius, the real mastermind, Freya, was the one setting up every deal, disguising her schemes as business proposals from overseas merchants, and handing them over to her brother to execute with surgical precision.
This demon disguised as a human had full control over entire houses. families who could be considered nothing short of the Heavens family's personal army, without a single soul in her family even realizing it.
No... not even the king himself found out. Not until it was far, far too late. And that was only because Freya decided she didn't need him anymore.
Sure, maybe she doesn't have that much power just yet, but soon, according to the story, she'll get her hands on an item capable of crushing the king under her heel, taming him like a leashed dog.
She held the highest recorded grades in Avalis Academy's history, not just among her peers, but ever. A prodigy in both sword and magic. Title after title piled upon her name until she soared to stardom, becoming her father's most beloved child and the flower every nobleman dreamed of picking.
And the craziest part?
Freya hadn't even turned twenty-five.
In just two more years, if the story goes as it's supposed to, she'll acquire the thing that'll make her the true queen of Avalis. The silent ruler, controlling everything from the shadows, while the Three Great Houses remain blissfully unaware of what she possesses.
And right now? That Freya... was summoning me.
Even with all that absurd intel floating in my head, info that would leave anyone slack-jawed in disbelief, I wasn't feeling the slightest bit of honor or excitement at meeting this woman.
Actually, I've never wanted to run away more than I did at this very moment.
"Oi! Hurry up and change already, you damn sluttish Prince! Do you dare make Her Highness wait?!"
"A-Ah! Yes, I'm really sorry!"
God, can't I stall a little bit longer? I mean, we're talking about that Freya here!
Sighing deeply, I slipped on the clean shirt one of the servants had brought me after Waltimar ordered me to wash up properly and scrub off all the dirt before meeting their Queen.
"They're already calling her 'Her Highness' now, huh..." I muttered, letting out a bitter chuckle.
Once I had the white shirt and black pants on, I put on the matching shoes and stepped out of the room.
Not exactly fancy, but clean. It'd have to do.
The servant waiting outside looked me up and down with a stiff face, his eyes scanning me with thinly-veiled disgust.
"...After what you did, you'll stay filthy no matter how fine the clothes you wear."
I swallowed the insult and lowered my head.
I wondered what he'd do if I actually told the truth.
The truth behind that disgusting scene.
Would he even believe me?
...Nope. I didn't even need a second to scrap that idea, especially when the guy motioned for me to follow him through the outer corridors behind the mansion, heading toward the main gate.
Honestly, I'd rather not even remember the slave bathrooms, no water, no soap, nothing to clean yourself with. Just raw suffering.
I was lucky they at least let me use the stable's worker bath.
When the servant pushed open the heavy, ornate wooden door, the scene beyond almost swallowed me whole.
Chandeliers gleaming like suns, decked out with precious gems. The floor covered in a lush violet carpet with white embroidery, perfectly matched by the noble curtains draped over the windows and walls. Everything screamed elegance and elegance.
The Heavens house radiated a kind of graceful calm, even with dozens of servants gliding around. Not a single sound echoed from their footsteps.
It was like watching ghosts, carefully preserving the serene atmosphere of the house.
Whoever designed this place's interior... must've poured every drop of their soul into it.
In the original novel, the author didn't care much for describing the scenes or backgrounds, his focus was always on the characters, the events, and whatever fresh torment the protagonist was about to be dragged through next.
You could never tell if he was a genius or just a twisted sadist.
"You're late."
And then, I heard his annoying voice.
Looking to the right-hand side of the hall, where the staircase led to the second floor, I spotted Waltimar, face as cold and unreadable as always, watching us.
"My sincerest apologies," the servant bowed deeply, then shot me a clearly furious glare. "We were late because of this filthy sla—excuse me, this slave, sir."
And can you blame me? Again, we're talking about Freya! What did you think I was gonna do?
"Hmph."
Waltimar's eyes pierced through me like daggers, but he said nothing.
I stared back without flinching, only for him to close his eyes, probably contemplating what sort of punishment he'd like to inflict on me later.
"There's no need to apologize. Raise your head," he said, surprisingly calm. "It's not like this lowlife has any clue how lucky he is to be granted an audience with Her Highness."
Yup. Classic Waltimar. Always inventing a new insult.
Without another word, he turned and ordered me to follow him.
At this point, I felt like I was jumping from one train station to another, no time to switch tracks or even go back to where I started.
"...what a lovely fate." I muttered under my breath.
We made our way to the second floor, heading deeper into the mansion. I glanced around the spacious hallway, marveling at the beautiful ornaments and intricate designs.
For slaves, unless explicitly ordered, stepping foot in the mansion, or even approaching the inner gate, was forbidden. Unless Waltimar himself summoned you or you were directly called by a family member, any such act would cost you your legs. Literally.
And trying to escape? Well, let's just say all it took was one word from Waltimar and a simple chant to activate the iron collar I was already wearing, and it would shrink until it crushed your throat.
...Yeah. Terrifying.
It was one of the main reasons I never even tried escaping, even though I passed by the estate gates every single day on my way to the stables.
Slaves had no rights.
That one phrase was enough to explain our worth around here.
"If you had time to dawdle, I hope you used it to refresh your memory on proper manners and respectful speech."
The words came from Waltimar, still walking ahead without sparing me a glance.
Guess he saw right through me...
Honestly? Not bad for a side character who doesn't even get a proper name.
"Also, remember, you're nothing but a lowly slave now. Don't you dare look Her Highness in the eyes."
"...Understood."
Among nobles, it's considered a delicate art: how you look at a woman. Not too intense, not too cautious. Just enough to make her feel comfortable.
Not that anyone ever bothered to teach me that, only the author and a few hardcore readers cared about those sorts of details.
This novel is loaded with little things like that. Systems, manners, behaviors, cultures, God knows how the author managed to organize it all in his head and present it in a way that stuck with you.
"When you enter, kneel and wait for permission to rise. Even if she tells you to stand, stay bowed. Her Highness is kind-hearted, and she'll probably give you space. But I will not let your filthy eyes defile her. Am I clear?"
His voice was so sharp I could practically feel the intent to kill behind it.
He wasn't just warning me, he'd absolutely follow through.
"...Perfectly clear, sir," I said, obediently.
Not that I had much of a choice right now.
But...
If I listened to him completely, I'd fall into the same trap the protagonist did.
And once I fall into that particular trap... it's game over for me.
✦✦✦
We arrived at Freya's room after a short walk. Without wasting even a second, Waltimar turned to me with that same look, as if trying to reaffirm the instructions he'd given me before we got here.
I gave him a small nod in return. That was enough to make him narrow his eyes for a moment, before knocking gently on the door, three soft taps.
It didn't take long before we heard a gentle, feminine voice from inside.
"Come in."
Waltimar opened the door and stepped inside first. I followed close behind.
"Ara~ Walty. So, you actually brought him despite all your earlier objections. You really are a moody one, aren't you?"
"My apologies, Your Grace."
The moment I looked ahead, I immediately recognized the owner of that voice ,even though I'd never heard it before.
My eyes fell on her face, and I swear, no illustration I'd seen in the novel came even close.
It was as if my eyes were being held hostage, I couldn't look away from her sharp, gleaming amethyst eyes, each surrounded by a deep black ring. Her small, perfect nose, her flawless, porcelain skin... not a single blemish to tarnish that divine canvas.
Her silky long hair cascaded down like violet waterfalls, in a dark, luxurious shade unique to the Heavens family. It almost begged to be touched. If anything, it made her eyes shine even brighter.
She wasn't just beautiful. No, that word didn't fit her. It _drowned_ in her.
It felt like the very concept of beauty had given up and taken her name instead.
I won't lie, this was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on. Human or not. Real or fictional. Didn't matter.
So this is Freya, huh? I can see why they call her A Flower Among Women's.
Then came the jab.
A weird little sting at the side of my face. I turned, only to find Waltimar glaring at me out of the corner of his eye, his gaze saying loud and clear: "Did you already forget what I told you?!"
Ah, right. I don't have all the day here.
Snapping out of the daze her presence had cast on me, I shook my head quickly.
With a light bow, I let my body, one that wasn't even mine, but had been trained in these formalities by its original owner, move on its own, doing what it knew best.
"My name is Sora. One of the humble slaves honored to serve your esteemed household. I was overwhelmed with joy to hear that Your Grace had personally summoned me."
"Oh my, what a sight I'm seeing.."
"?!"
With a noble's grace, I performed my bow with just the right amount of flair. It probably shocked Waltimar more than anything, without me even needing to look at him to know.
As for Freya... yeah, there was no way I could meet her gaze so easily.
Right, Waltimar?
I glanced to the side with a mischievous smirk. The moment he saw my expression, his lips moved. and though no sound came out, I could read them well enough.
He cursed.
Then opened his palm, summoning what looked like a tiny magical circle. Whatever he was about to do next definitely wasn't going to be friendly.
"There's no need for that, Walty. I'll allow it. I like his style."
She cut him off.
"Perhaps the workload around here has worn you down so much he forgot his manners, hmm? Let's not be too hard on him, alright?"
"B-But Your Grace—!"
Freya's voice came from beside me for some reason. When Waltimar tried to argue, she silenced him with a single glance.
Talk about dodging death by a hair.
Of course, my gut tells me what he tried to do was activate the collar that would've choked me out then and there, mercilessly. Probably because I didn't kneel, or maybe because I introduced myself with my name and stood with the confidence only a noble would dare to wear.
And to top it off? I threw in a tiny detail most people wouldn't even notice, except me, the author, and every noble in this world.
You see, among nobles, there's a very specific way to bow. It doesn't matter how deep the bow is; different families have different standards for that.
No, what really matters...
Are your hands.
Let's say I'm a second-ranked noble, greeting a first-rank noble, someone clearly above me, someone I really don't want to piss off.
The correct gesture?
Place your right hand over your chest. Tuck your left hand behind your back. Say some empty pleasantries and be done.
What that means is: "I offer you my strength with my right... and I dare not raise my left against you."
But… if you don't place your left hand behind your back?
You're challenging them
Simple isn't it.
You only show your left like that when greeting nobles beneath you, or, at best, equals.
And for someone like Freya, one of the most powerful nobles in the entire kingdom?
Yeah, she's probably never seen anyone greet her like that before.
Hence come her comment about me forgetting my manners.
I wouldn't be surprised if Waltimar lops off my left hand later, but for now… let's focus on the present, the part I want to bend just a little.
✦✦✦
"You likely have no idea why I summoned you here, do you, Sora?"
Standing behind a massive desk littered with papers, Freya began to speak.
Here we go.
"Not at all, Your Grace," I said, shaking my head politely while maintaining my bow.
Let's not give Waltimar another excuse to make my lungs dry.
Not yet, anyway.
"You've probably heard of my younger brother, Fin. Maybe you haven't met him, but the name must have reached your ears at some point, right?"
Fin Allen Heavens.
Freya's younger brother. The youngest son of the Heavens family.
Known across the land as the Sword Prince, or the Kingdom's Blade.
Of course I knew of him. I used to be from the Asura family, after all.
Actually, even the dumbest commoner would know the name of the nineteen-year-old hero of this kingdom.
"Of course, Your Grace. Who hasn't heard of Lord Fin?"
"Right?" Freya chuckled softly, in a way that could charm any man alive. "He's my precious little brother. I'm so proud of him."
The same brother Freya had used as the first piece in her long-reaching plans. Through her, he'd obtained a legendary sword, one that could rival Excalibur in strength, if you're into comparisons like that.
Every time I think about how far ahead her schemes go, I can't help but second-guess what I'm doing here.
But it's too late now. I have to trust my instincts, and everything I know about Freya.
If I want to get out of here alive.
She continued.
"As you may know, Fin's still quite young. I didn't want him thrust into noble society so early, nor appearing in public just yet. I'd hoped he'd refine himself a little more before all that, but... I couldn't stop him."
Her voice was gentle, overflowing with warmth and affection.
Freya really loved her brother. And Fin, in truth, was a bright, kind-hearted boy.
"Yesterday, one of my servants told me that a noble sent Fin a gift, a simple crystal orb meant for decoration, apparently. But for some reason, I can't shake this uneasy feeling about it. I don't know the sender's true intentions."
There it was.
A concern that had nothing to do with me, and yet, because it's her, she was telling me.
"I understand your worry completely, Your Grace. I'm sure this troubles your heart."
I paused just long enough.
"But… what does this have to do with me? And how can I help ease that worry from your beautiful face?"
Of course, I already knew the answer.
But unless Freya felt like I was probing deeper, unless I made it seem like I wanted to help, she wouldn't tell me more.
In other words...
Like I'd already fallen under her spell.
And in that very moment, though I was still bowed and hadn't seen her face, I knew she had smiled.
And not just any smile.
"Ah, of course. This matter has nothing to do with you. You're not connected to us in the slightest," she said gently. "But precisely because you're that kind of person… I don't see anyone else better suited to help me."
"No one else but me…"
"Exactly. Sadly, none of my servants would agree to carry this out, especially not against Fin. And I don't think I need to bring in someone from outside when I'm confident that you, Sora, won't refuse me."
Not like I could refuse you anyway.
Not that I don't know who you really are, Freya.
"You sadistic, merciless monster..."
Oops. Almost said that out loud.
"So… would you borrow that crystal orb for me tonight? Quietly, without letting any of the servants or household members know. We'll return it after inspecting it, of course. And as a reward... I'll make you my personal servant."
"Milady, allow me to say this again… but I truly do not believe this is a wise decision."
This time, Waltimar's voice came calm but firm.
Well, he could object. He was probably the only one allowed to.
From what I'd gathered, he was her personal, direct servant. Not even mentioned in the novel. The kind of man whose opinion she might actually ask for from time to time.
"I still can't accept him as a servant. Not after what he's accused of. Let alone promoting him. Doing that would tarnish the honor of every servant in this mansion. I hope you understand what I'm trying to say, Milady."
His rejection was clear and unwavering.
Honor, huh...
Of course. Wherever I go, all I leave behind is the stain of my presence. That's all they see.
How poetic.
I wonder... if the bitterness I'm feeling now...is the same as the one the protagonist felt back then.
No... maybe it is bitterness, but our reasons are different.
After Waltimar's words, silence filled the room for a moment. Then Freya stepped forward, just a single, elegant step toward me.
"I truly appreciate your concern for the honor of the other servants, Walty. You've always been so considerate of those around you."
Her words were laced with sentiment I absolutely didn't agree with.
"But… I don't know why, but I feel like something is missing. Something we didn't see or understand in Sora's story."
As she approached me, still keeping my respectful bow, I could feel her soft, gentle tone directed at me like a warm breath brushing my ear.
"I've lived in this society long enough to know how deep conspiracies run. Especially in lavish palaces like ours. That's why... I think _I can believe Sora_. I feel like I need to help him."
"Milady!"
"Tell me, Sora... They say you committed a sin. A crime that cannot be forgiven. But maybe, just maybe, you didn't actually do that, did you?"
There it was, half of Freya Heavens' real face.
Yes, this was the same line she used on the protagonist.
The same trap, presented with the illusion of kindness. And he, desperate for someone, anyone, to believe in him after losing everything, didn't even hesitate to believe her.
Because that's all anyone wants when they're at their lowest.
To be believed.
We humans are fragile creatures that find strength in the opinions of others. We second-guess ourselves every time we make a decision, but the moment someone supports us, we start to believe again.
Especially when we feel wronged.
We'll welcome the devil with open arms if he whispers something comforting.
"I believe you."
They weren't just soft words, they were like a spell.
Even now, standing in the same place as that protagonist, a part of my mind screamed to believe her. That maybe she did believe me. And that maybe… if someone like her stood beside me, I could get everything back.
But I'm sorry, Freya.
I'm not buying your crap.
History isn't a variable, it's a constant. It only repeats.
And if the novel I read is a part of history, if the version of you I read about is real, then I'd rather die than accept your request.
From a sadist like you.
From a psycho like you.
From a girl who pretended to be pure and clever... just because she was bored of the world.
From a girl who hid her monstrous side until she found the right pawn to play with.
From someone so disgustingly broken inside, no amount of beauty could ever make up for it.
The Empress.
The woman who tortured the protagonist again and again, for no real reason. Tore him apart. Reassembled him. Then tore him down again. Just because she could.
I know.
I know exactly what you're planning. You'll alert your servants, and probably Waltimar too, the moment I enter Fin's room. You'll accuse me of stealing from a noble family, spread the news far and wide.
And when I deny it? You'll say I tried to assault you.
You'll wrap my hands around your own waist yourself, just to say I touched you. You'll do it with that same manipulative grace, just when I hesitate, just when I start to wonder why you didn't send someone else, or ask Fin directly, you'll pull that cheap stunt.
And the moment the Kingdom's Blade, Fin, hates me and swings his sword?
You'll stop him.
You'll forgive me in front of everyone. Show your fake mercy and raise your public image even higher.
Freya Heavens...
Do you really think I'll let you turn me into an enemy of the Kingdom's Sword?
Of the entire kingdom?
Just to become another toy in your collection?
No... I'm sorry, Freya.
And sorry to you, broken version of the protagonist named Sora.
But I'm not planning to suffer where you did.
And I'm sure as hell not planning to fail where you failed.
"…Lady Freya."
Taking a deep breath and steadying my heart, I slowly lifted my head, meeting her gaze with calm confidence.
"If you truly wish to ask something of me...I can bring you something far more valuable than that orb."
"Something... more valuable?"
Tilting her head slightly, Freya's silk-like hair flowed elegantly to one side, as if even it were enchanted by her presence.
She looked at me with curiosity.
And I, with nothing but a calm and confident smile, gave my answer:
"If you'll permit me, instead of wasting my ability on a task any servant could handle, I could retrieve for you... the Pendant of Eternal Dawn, if you're interested."
I said the name.
The one thing.
The one artifact that, no matter how powerful she became, no matter how influential she was, she never got her hands on.
The pendant that grants you two lives.
That brings you back even after death.
The pendant she craved more than anything, the one desire left unfulfilled....
...before the day her head rolled on the ground.
Frozen in place, all color drained from Freya's face.
She stared at me, eyes wide, shocked, as if I had spoken a name forbidden to all but her.