The Oak Door closed behind him, shutting out both candlelight and the strange fragrance.
Wendy walked down the corridor, lost and dazed, his steps unsteady.
The noisy waves of the Main Hall’s victory banquet sounded as if muffled by a thick layer of frosted glass, distant and blurred.
“Wendy!”
Astreia came running up, clearly just finished with the banquet affairs, rushing over at the first moment she could, her breath still uneven.
“Are you alright?”
She grabbed Wendy’s arm, looking him over anxiously, afraid that something else might have happened to him.
“What’s wrong? You look so pale! Is your wound hurting again? Or did that Priest say something to you?”
Princess Astreia’s anxiety was almost overflowing; she looked ready to storm back and tear down the Infirmary at any moment.
The sight warmed Wendy’s heart for a moment, but what followed was a deeper, heavier bitterness.
Right now, he was nothing more than a self-propelled bioweapon.
The closer anyone got to him, the deeper they’d be poisoned.
“It’s nothing, Astreia.”
Wendy forced a small smile, his pale and exhausted appearance the very picture of pitiful vulnerability.
“It’s just… too much happened tonight. I’m a little tired.”
“I want to go back and rest…”
He gently pulled his arm free from the Princess’s grasp.
This small movement made Astreia freeze on the spot.
“I’ll go with you, so you can rest in your room!”
“No need,” Wendy shook his head, taking a half step back to open up a safe social distance.
“I just want to be alone for a while. Go on, everyone is waiting for you—the star of the evening.”
This distance made Astreia’s heart ache, but seeing Wendy looking as if he might shatter at any moment, all her insistence crumbled away.
That’s right, he’s still just a child.
He’d just masterminded a shocking scheme, survived a brush with death—anyone would be exhausted after that.
“Then… then you rest well. I’ll come see you tomorrow!”
Princess Astreia reluctantly gave her reminders, looking back every few steps as she returned to the noisy banquet.
***
“Clang.”
The door locked behind him.
Wendy could hold on no longer and slid down to the floor, back against the door.
In the dressing mirror by the door, his disheveled state was reflected clearly.
That face—so beautiful it could topple nations—now seemed less like a blessing, and more like a curse.
He was a walking Witch Incubator, a mobile Corruption Aura, a living, screaming Biochemical Crisis warning label.
“Blessing,” “Corruption,” “Pollution”…
“Desire Amplification…”
“Turning into a Monster who knows nothing but endless, mad craving…”
The Beauty Priest’s words echoed in his mind like the vilest curse, overlapping perfectly with the Blackened Astreia plotline in Witch’s Conquest, forming a despairing logical loop.
No wonder!
No wonder Astreia’s Favorability was skyrocketing like a rocket!
No wonder her reactions to him were getting stranger and stranger!
It wasn’t some clumsy, innocent Princess’s love at all—this was a curse fermenting, the progress bar of a blackened route!
It seemed the world’s correction force had made him, instead of the Corrupted Sword Bamruck, the new trigger for tragedy.
How ironic!
He’d spent the last two days racking his brains to avoid that “Bad End” of being drained dry by the Witch, only to discover he himself was the true culprit creating the “Bad End”!
Just thinking of that in-game CG—Astreia, after her complete fall, using those long, powerful legs to pin him down, her eyes burning with nothing but mad possessiveness…
Wendy shuddered, instantly grabbing his silver amulet and the letter that would decide his fate.
This might be his only path to redemption—his only chance to “save” Astreia.
“Go to the Holy City? Just pat my butt and run away?”
As soon as the thought appeared, he crushed it.
“No! Absolutely not!”
Wendy sprang to his feet, pacing the room in agitation.
“If I leave now, the tens of thousands of Orcs will be on Sunset Fortress in no time! With just Alchemic Explosives, there’s no way the garrison can hold out! Once the pressure mounts, Astreia will definitely try to draw that Corrupted Sword!”
Go, and Astreia will fall.
Stay, and Astreia will still fall—it’s only a matter of time.
This was a Deadlock.
He had to think of something!
A once-and-for-all solution!
Wendy clutched at his hair in pain, brain racing at lightning speed.
Corrupted Marsh… the marsh…
The terrain there was muddy, filled with toxic gas and quicksand, impassable for armies. But the Orcs could use brute force to carve a path through.
He had to block the Orcs in the Corrupted Marsh!
With what?
Wood?
Stone?
No, neither was sturdy enough, nor quick to build.
“Wait… what’s most abundant in a marsh? Mud! Clay! And what’s plentiful in the mountains? Stone! Limestone!”
A revolutionary idea struck him like lightning, piercing through all the fog!
“Cement!”
Prince Wendy, as if possessed, dashed to the table and unrolled a piece of Sheepskin Parchment.
All the knowledge he’d forced himself to learn in his past life to outwork his colleagues in the construction business now seemed like a divine revelation.
A simple Rotary Kiln design, sketches for permanent fortifications using the marsh’s terrain, even the beginnings of a Bastion Structure…
One after another, designs far beyond this era’s understanding poured from Wendy’s pen.
He was going to turn the exit of the Corrupted Marsh into an unbreakable barrier!
***
The next morning.
When Astreia arrived with steaming hot breakfast and knocked on Wendy’s Room, what she saw was a floor littered with messy blueprints, and the Prince slumped over the table.
“Wendy? You… you didn’t sleep all night?”
Hearing her, Wendy looked up, revealing a face with dark circles but an unusually excited expression.
“Astreia, you came at just the right time,” he said, picking up a drawing covered in strange buildings and symbols, handing it over like a treasure, “I’ve thought up an entirely new defense plan!”
Astreia took the drawing, staring at the incomprehensible structures, then at Wendy’s pale, sleep-deprived face. A surge of warmth and heartache welled up inside her.
This young Prince… he’d just survived an assassination yesterday, yet still pushed himself all night, exhausting his mind for Sunset Fortress’s future.
“Wendy, you don’t have to do this,” Astreia choked out.
“No, it’s necessary.”
Wendy pointed at the blueprints, launching into an eager explanation of his plan…
In the days that followed, everyone noticed the change in Prince Wendy.
He became more energetic and passionate than ever, discussing defense details with General Sera and Deputy Commander Kara, personally supervising the craftsmen as they built strange new kilns from his “esoteric” blueprints.
He would even pull Astreia along the city walls, painting vivid pictures of the future for her.
Each moment of closeness made Princess Astreia fall even deeper.
But she never realized—behind this sweetness, what kind of resolve was hidden…