System Warning: User is experiencing abnormal narrative fluctuations.
Initiating Stabilization Sequence… Failed.
The voice in Seraphine's mind had lost its usual perky, tutorial-like charm. Instead, it sounded mechanical, strained. Almost… angry.
> "Narrative deviation has exceeded 78%. Consequences: unpredictable.
Quest Assigned: SURVIVE."
"Oh, well. Just survive," I muttered aloud, clutching my temple as the headache thundered behind my eyes. "You know. Like a normal Tuesday."
I was still shaking from last night's ballroom spectacle—a cursed rose, a collapsing floor, and Caelan's sudden appearance, his sword drawn and eyes wild like a beast off its leash. He'd carried me out without a word, his cloak wrapped tight around me like armor. But now that we were back in my bedchamber, that protective intensity had cooled into a freezing silence.
Caelan sat on a brocade chair across the room, watching me. No expression. No blink. Just that eerie stillness—too still to be human.
I cleared my throat. "You know, if you're going to stare at me like a taxidermy owl, at least offer me breakfast."
He flinched. Ah. Human after all.
"You should not have been there," he said flatly.
"Oh, I should not have been at my own engagement masquerade? My apologies, Your Ice-ness, next time I'll RSVP to my own damn plotline."
He said nothing. I could see the tension in his gloved hands. Rage barely contained. But at what? The curse? The kiss with Lysander? Himself?
> System Notification: Affection Level - Caelan Aurelion: [???] System Note: Affection data corrupted. Recalibrating…
Corrupted? Well, that's ominous.
The System had been flickering since the curse. Quest prompts glitching. Menus stuttering. Once, it had even given me a reward titled: "Screaming Internally (Permanent Buff)".
No clarification. Just vibes.
"Are you injured?" Caelan asked abruptly, standing and taking a slow step forward.
Oh, now he was concerned.
"Only emotionally, physically, magically, and spiritually," I said. "Thanks for asking."
He exhaled harshly. "Seraphine."
There was something raw in how he said it. Like he didn't know what I was anymore—enemy, victim, liability. The worst part? I wasn't sure either.
"Will you let me help you?" he asked.
For a moment, I almost believed him.
> NEW QUEST: Trust the Prince or Trick the Prince?
— Objective A: Accept Caelan's aid. +20 Affection. +10 Danger.
— Objective B: Pretend to trust him. -10 Affection. +50 Chaos.
— Objective C: Kiss him and run. +???. Requires Grappling Hook (not in inventory).
I chose B with the elegance of a lying cat.
"Of course," I purred. "Let's fix this together."
He nodded, jaw tight. "I'll speak to the Royal Arcanists. We'll remove this curse. Even if I have to kill whoever cast it."
I smiled sweetly. "Oh, darling. I already made a list."
---
Later, in the Garden
I needed air. Space. Maybe a sacrificial goat or two.
Aria found me under the shade of a cursed willow. Fitting.
"I was worried about you," she said, clasping my hand.
That grip was too tight. Her eyes too wide. Her aura—off.
"I'm fine," I said, gently freeing my hand like I wasn't sure she'd bite it. "You've been… busy. With Lysander."
Her lips twitched. "Yes. He's been surprisingly attentive."
"Hmm. He proposed to me last week."
She blinked.
"Oh," she said, voice flat.
> System Notification: Hostility Level - Aria: [22%] ➤ [46%] Warning: Heroine Route may be entering Subversion Phase.
I arched a brow. "Something wrong?"
"No, no," she said quickly. "Just… didn't think you were his type."
I leaned in, voice syrupy. "Oh, sweetheart. I made his type."
She flinched. And for a second—just one—I saw it. The mask slip. Her smile turned brittle. Her eyes sharp.
She wasn't here to make friends anymore.
---
That Night – A New Visitor
I found the note under my pillow. Not elegant parchment. Not enchanted silk. Just a piece of scrap paper with scrawled ink:
> "If you want answers, meet me at the West Wing Library. Midnight. Come alone. Burn this."
No signature. No seal.
> System Alert: Unauthorized Narrative Detected. "Warning: External Influence Detected. Source: Unknown. Proceed? [Y/N]"
I burned the note. But I was already halfway out the door.
---
West Wing Library – Midnight
The room was dark. Cold. Books shifted by themselves. The candlelight flickered even without wind.
"I expected you sooner," said a voice.
I turned—and nearly screamed.
There, standing in a velvet cloak too modern for this world, was someone I'd never written.
Or maybe I had. A long-forgotten draft. A scrapped antagonist.
"You're not in this story," I whispered.
He smirked. "Neither are you. Not anymore."
> NEW SYSTEM QUEST UNLOCKED:
Title: The Author's Shadow
Objective: Discover the rogue editor corrupting the narrative.
Reward: ???
Risk: Everything.
END OF THE CHAPTER