The successive chance encounters made Jon's internal alarm bells ring loud and clear.
However, before he could do anything, the colorful interface screen was still hovering right in front of him, scrolling the words: "We look forward to your 5-star review."
Below that, five hollow hexagonal stars, formed by blue light, floated in front of Jon's face, completely blocking his vision.
"You have the damn nerve to ask for a good review? And five stars at that?!"
The transmigrator's veins throbbed on his forehead. His mood instantly turned explosive, and he instinctively tried to swat the panel away.
But unlike before the System was activated, the panel didn't disappear. Instead, it pushed even closer, practically shoving itself onto the tip of his nose.
Seeing this, the transmigrator, filled with grievances and regret, backhanded the interface and slapped a 1-star review on it.
Only then did the annoying panel dissolve into specks of light, finally ending its visual pollution of Snow's eyesight.
Closing his door, Jon signaled for the guard to lead the way. He walked slowly behind, wary that the man might suddenly attack.
Unfortunately—or fortunately—nothing happened until they reached the side gate of the castle.
"Wait? This isn't the way to Maester Luwin's..."
By now, Jon had finally shaken off the side effects of being piloted by the retarded System and realized the route was wrong.
However, the guard in front looked back blankly, seemingly confused by Snow's hesitation.
"Huh? Lady Stark ordered for Snow... for you and Lord Robb and the others to get cleaned up and trimmed, to be ready to receive the King and Queen."
Hearing this explanation, Jon couldn't tell for a moment if he had misheard earlier or if this Tully guard was lying through his teeth.
A heavy silence began to settle in.
The transmigrator looked at the fully armored guard, then down at himself—dressed in casual clothes with only a hidden dagger—and a trace of resolve flashed in his eyes.
But just then, a grating, duck-like voice rang out at the worst possible moment.
"I said, Snow! We're just waiting for you. Hurry up!"
In all of Winterfell, only one other person was rude enough to call him out like that, and he happened to be another unwelcome fixture of the castle—Theon Greyjoy!
Jon looked toward the voice and saw the guy standing shirtless at the entrance leading to the stables and storehouses.
Seeing this scene, the transmigrator quietly let out a breath of relief. He sidestepped the guard and Theon, stepping inside.
Inside the utility room on the side of the castle leading to the stables, there were several other young men of similar age besides Theon.
All of them were shirtless, letting Tommy—the castle's leatherworker and barber—work his magic on them. Their stubble and messy hair had already been trimmed, making them look incredibly neat and clean.
Taking in the situation, his "Jon Snow instincts" kicked in, and the transmigrator began to gather intel.
"Looks like Lady Catelyn isn't too happy with our grooming."
"No, she's just not happy with you."
Theon took over the conversation again, his tone full of mockery, completely ignoring the awkward expressions of the others.
Just like Jon the Bastard, this hostage from the Iron Islands had never been able to fit in here since he was a child.
But Theon, who styled himself the Prince of the Ironborn, looked down on Snow the Bastard just as much, making an enemy of him at every turn.
Perhaps only by doing this could Theon find some comfort, even if it invited more animosity from others.
Fortunately, the transmigrator understood the importance of not arguing with idiots. So, he decisively turned his gaze to Robb, who was standing with his arms crossed, hoping to probe for information about what happened at the top of the tower.
To his disappointment, however, as soon as their eyes met, the Young Wolf unnaturally looked away.
Perhaps to diffuse the awkwardness, Robb turned to the barber with exaggerated seriousness and joked:
"Go on, Tommy. Give Jon a good trim. After all, no girl loves her hair as much as this guy does."
Hearing this, the young men in the room burst into laughter, all chiming in to tease Snow.
"Oh~ Don't tell me Jon is still a..."
"Shh! Keep it down. This is about a man's dignity."
"That shouldn't be possible. With so many girls in the castle, unless he likes m—"
Looking at these hormonal peers, Jon felt a flash of exasperation.
If he hadn't lived two lives, maybe he would be just like them—constantly oscillating between tension and relaxation, letting his "little brother" dictate his decisions.
But right now, his brain was only filled with thoughts of making money—wait, no, thoughts of lying flat!
The restlessness and urges of youth didn't affect him strongly.
But the problem was, he was Snow. This ascetic behavior only made him stand out more as an oddity, further preventing him from fitting into Winterfell.
While the atmosphere was still lively, Theon walked over and slapped the transmigrator on the back.
"Hey! I'm telling you, rookie, I can introduce you to Ros. With a 'big bird' like yours, surely you can get a free ride once! Hahaha!"
Despite the teasing directed at him, the transmigrator didn't care.
Feeling the cold razor glide across his face courtesy of Tommy, he could at least be certain of one thing: for now, he was safe.
As for the guard's corpse, it was impossible that no one had found it yet. If that were the case, Winterfell's security would have collapsed long ago.
Realizing he had safely dodged a bullet, Jon tossed aside the elaborate excuses he had been preparing.
Later, just as the group of young men was about to disperse, Lord Eddard walked into the room, accompanied by Ser Rodrik and over a dozen guards.
The Warden of the North ignored the bows of the crowd and stated his purpose directly before even stopping.
"Children, you are the future of Winterfell. Although seeing the King is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, circumstances have changed. From now on, I need you to split into groups for night watch and assist Ser Rodrik until the King departs."
After saying this, he nodded slightly, and the Master-at-Arms of Winterfell took over.
"Alright, you little whelps, enough talk. I need you to pair up. Get geared up and lead ten soldiers each to patrol the castle perimeter. As for the reason, you'll be told after the King leaves."
And so, Jon got his wish—he was paired with Theon.
Upon hearing they were to patrol outside the castle, Theon immediately turned to look at Snow. The gleam of窃喜 (secret joy) in his eyes was clearly hinting at his earlier suggestion about Ros.
Although he caught the Ironborn's drift, Jon pretended not to see it. Instead, he quickly returned to his room and armed himself to the teeth.
Judging from the situation just now, although his earlier actions were temporarily safe, the current circumstances were actually extremely dangerous.
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