Consciousness struggled to surface from the cold depths of the ocean, breaking through the thick darkness and countless fragments of memories.
The Crown Prince’s cold verdict, the harsh jeers of the gathered nobles, the agony of being torn apart by Livia’s Emblem Power…all crystallized in the freezing moment when his heart was pierced.
“Ugh!”
Buzzing filled Allen’s ears as he suddenly opened his eyes, only to be blinded by a shaft of light shining directly on his face.
He squinted, slowly adjusting to the dim yellow light piercing his vision.
Where was this?
He turned his stiff neck, his gaze sweeping across the surroundings.
It was a spacious yet worn room.
The edges of the faded wallpaper curled slightly, and in the corner stood a bulky dark wooden wardrobe, its carvings intricate but outdated.
The evening sun’s afterglow filtered through an arched window fitted with cheap colored glass, barely illuminating the dust particles drifting in the air.
Beneath him lay a feather mattress so soft it sank under his weight, covered by a thick yet slightly faded damask quilt.
This environment, both familiar and strange, instantly triggered fragments of “the original owner’s” memories deep in Allen’s mind.
This was his “home” in this world—
Viscount Laval Manor, his own bedroom.
Wait—why was he at home?
Shouldn’t he have just started a new run at Saint Norra Emblem Academy?
What time was it exactly?!
Panic wrapped cold tendrils tightly around Allen’s heart.
He didn’t have the protection of a rebirth this time.
If he died camping the respawn point, there’d be no one to even cry to!
Originally, when starting a new run at the Academy, he could rely on his experience to survive the initial crisis, but now at this new starting point, he didn’t even know who his enemies were!
At that moment, a faint rustling sound came from the corner of the room.
A slender figure in a simple black-and-white maid’s uniform stood with her back to him, carefully wiping a brass candlestick on a goblet cabinet.
The sunset traced her delicate silhouette, making her appear fragile and helpless.
After dying countless times, Allen fully understood how deeply hostile this world was toward him.
The original owner’s usual arrogant, cruel, and heartless attitude was nothing less than a walking death sentence.
To survive, he had to change—starting with how he treated everyone, especially the seemingly harmless maid before him.
“…”
Allen tried to speak.
His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping, but he forced it to sound unusually gentle, even cautiously tentative.
At the sound, the maid’s body stiffened as if paused mid-motion.
The hand wiping the candlestick trembled, causing the brass and wooden surface to click softly.
She hesitated, then slowly turned around.
Allen saw her face clearly.
She was young, about fourteen or fifteen, with delicate features and pale skin—so pale it was almost translucent.
Damp strands of black hair clung to her temple.
Most chilling were her eyes—crimson, flashing with a dangerous light in an instant.
The maid stared at him, her voice confused.
“Why…are you still alive?”
No respect, no fear—only cold accusation and blatant vigilance.
Her body was tense, fingers curled instinctively; far from the obedient maid she appeared, she was more like an assassin ready to strike at any moment!
Service.
Allen had no doubt that if he showed even a hint of the original owner’s usual brutality, the next second he’d be smothered with a pillow or bashed with that candlestick.
A dull ache stirred in his stomach as he recognized her.
Marianne Durand.
His personal maid.
One of the possible romance routes in Starry Romance.
The childhood friend of the domineering female lead, Livia von Stern, who had been separated from her for years and never forgotten her.
And…a secret member of the Crimson Spiral Cult, bearing a Fake Crest and devoted to the Evil God!
If Livia killing Allen often had a thin veil of “justice,” then the memories Marianne brought to Allen were nothing but grotesque and bloody mosaics.
Why was she still by his side?
Allen started recalling the original story’s depiction of Marianne.
Marianne was Livia’s childhood friend, with a promise to stay together as they grew up.
But Livia was later taken back by her father, forcing their separation.
To support her ailing mother and younger siblings, Marianne went alone to the cold, bustling Capital Lucien to make a living.
What awaited her there was the demon that was the original Allen de Laval.
Day after day of cruel abuse, the hopelessness of never reuniting with Livia, and the crushing weight of her family’s poverty finally broke Marianne’s spirit.
Her heart twisted into darkness and corruption; seeking the power for revenge, she joined the Crimson Spiral Cult.
In Marianne’s route in Starry Romance, she infiltrates the Academy as Allen’s maid, secretly acting as the Cult’s informant.
When Livia hunts down the cultists within the Academy, she ends up fighting against Marianne, who has been corrupted by the Fake Crest’s power and is on the brink of losing her mind.
At the climax of the battle, Marianne’s deep longing for Livia and their unfulfilled promise miraculously overcomes her hatred and the Crest’s control.
She cries, begging Livia to end her suffering by killing her.
The childhood friends reunite, only to become enemies.
Overwhelmed by guilt and sorrow, Livia flees with Marianne, becoming fugitives of both the Church and Kingdom.
But the Emblem Power’s erosion was irreversible; Marianne had less than a year to live.
Together, they embarked on a desperate journey into the sunlight, seeing the sights they had promised to visit together.
In the end, with a trace of relief, Marianne died in Livia’s arms.
This storyline was heart-wrenching and revered by many players as a masterpiece.
But Allen always felt a chill down his spine whenever he remembered it—because in this route, and countless bad endings involving Marianne, Allen de Laval was always backstabbed and gruesomely killed by her, offered as a “sacrifice” to the Evil God!
Allen understood Marianne’s overwhelming hatred for the original owner.
Though he wasn’t the one who committed those atrocities, he couldn’t tell Marianne: “The bastard you hate drowned and died. There’s someone else in the shell now. I’m really sorry about the past! Let’s put things aside, please spare me now!”
He knew forgiveness was impossible no matter what he did.
Marianne’s hatred was ingrained deep in her bones, sharpened by the Cult’s creed and her twisted heart into something cold and pure.
Since Marianne was here now, serving—or more accurately, surveilling—the newly “awakened” Allen as his personal maid, this must be far before he formally enrolled at Saint Norra Emblem Academy!
In the last run, he chose to lay low, avoiding contact with all main characters, living like a ghost on the Academy’s fringes, only to be eliminated at the graduation banquet by the Crown Prince and Livia together.
That was likely not a failure of his plan, but the worldline’s malevolent convergence!
Allen de Laval was destined to be the expendable villain fodder of Starry Romance’s story!
But this time…he had begun a new run at “home” even before entering the main plot?
A bold thought struck like lightning clearing the fog: the worldline had shifted?
An earlier start meant…more room to maneuver?
Maybe he could try to—skip enrolling! Avoid Saint Norra Emblem Academy entirely, steer clear of Livia von Stern, dodge all the deadly flags of the Academy arc!
In past failed runs, he had tried escaping the Capital.
But whenever he attempted to leave the “stage” the plot had set, bizarre “accidents” killed him off, as if invisible hands forcibly pushed him back on track.
But now, starting in this “home” itself was an unprecedented “bug”!
Could this be a sign the world’s rules were loosening?
A chance to break the cycle of death?
Allen’s heart raced wildly at the possibility.
Opportunity!
This was definitely the only chance to break free after countless deaths!
He would seize this start, survive without dying, and clear the run in one go!
And the first step to breaking the cycle was the black-haired, crimson-eyed maid holding the power of life and death over him—
Marianne Durand.
He needed to immediately, right now, defuse her murderous intent! How?
Fragments of the original owner’s memories surged forth:
A glaring afternoon picnic.
The original Allen once again cruelly insulted Marianne, who silently followed behind him, and contemptuously ordered her to clean up the scattered picnic items while he leisurely wandered to the shimmering lake.
He left his unguarded back to the girl he had tortured so thoroughly.
At that moment, the long-repressed hatred, humiliation, and despair finally overwhelmed Marianne’s reason.
She reached out with all her strength and curses, pushing the villainous young master into the deep water…
What happened after drowning, Allen had no idea.
All he knew was that when the original owner woke up again, the soul had been replaced with his, the unlucky transmigrant.
“Did you save me?”
Allen decided to play dumb first.
He forced a grateful expression onto his pale face, his voice gentler than ever, “Thank you.”
It was the safest opening line he could think of right now.
“Thank you?”
The confusion in Marianne’s crimson eyes immediately vanished, replaced by piercing coldness and an understanding that pierced his disguise.
She looked at Allen, a faint curve of a smile tugging at her lips, as if mocking his clumsy performance.
“I didn’t save you,” Marianne said with terrifying calm, stating a fact unrelated to herself, “I pushed you into the water, trying to drown you.”
She paused, her red pupils locking tightly on Allen’s eyes, studying his slightest reaction.
“You don’t need to thank me. You fought for your life in the water yourself, that’s why someone fished you out. So, what are you planning to do now with your…‘gentle’ attitude and this fake apology? Want to have the guards arrest me for attempted murder? Or try pushing me into the fountain to freeze again? Suit yourself.”
Cold sweat drenched Allen’s back in an instant.
He was done for!
He knew Marianne hated him deeply but hadn’t expected her hatred and suspicion to be this extreme!
Not only did she openly admit intent to murder, she sneered at his feigned “change” as a new form of torment.
This wasn’t just hatred—it was the resignation of one fully corrupted, a disdainful and condescending judgment!
This was bad!
Allen had held onto some hope that Marianne hadn’t fully joined the Cult yet, but now her icy, numb gaze, her calm accusations, and her indifferent “kill or not, I don’t care” attitude…all pointed to a far scarier truth: she had likely already made contact with or joined the Crimson Spiral Cult!
Her contempt for her former hateful master showed she believed she had some power or escape route, no longer fearing Allen’s revenge.
In other words…
Allen might not even make it out of the newbie village alive!
His mind raced at unprecedented speed.
He had just awakened, his body weak as cotton, defenseless, nowhere near the fighting strength he’d gained after three years training at the Academy in the last run.
To go head-to-head with Marianne, who seemed to wield Fake Crest power, was a near-zero chance of success, with a 200% death rate!
Since brute force was impossible, and fake gentle words were already pierced…there was only one path left—cutting ties!
Allen took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his trembling and queasy stomach.
Facing Marianne’s cold, scrutinizing gaze, he spoke clearly with a mixture of fatigue, weariness, and “honesty”: “Marianne Durand, you’re fired.”
The air froze instantly.
For the first time, the cold mockery on Marianne’s face cracked, replaced by pure shock.
“What did you say?”
Her crimson eyes widened slightly, her voice finally tinged with genuine fluctuation.
Allen ignored her surprise and continued, speaking at an even pace as if stating the most mundane business decision:
“Don’t be shocked. I’m not forgetful. I remember all the cruel abuses you endured from me.”
He paused, watching Marianne’s reaction.
Her brows furrowed, confusion deepening, but the cold murderous intent seemed to stall.
“But,” Allen shifted tone, with a nearly ruthless practicality, “at the end of the day, my father hired you, paid your wages, and never owed you a penny, right? You suffered a lot, but that salary did support your sick mother and young siblings, didn’t it?”
He struck precisely at Marianne’s softest, most inseparable part—her family.
Marianne’s eyes flickered wildly, her body tensed imperceptibly more.
“As the Capital’s top scum, I’m self-aware,” Allen admitted calmly, even with a hint of self-mockery, “I don’t expect you to forgive me, probably not even in the next life. But…”
He lifted his head, looked directly into Marianne’s eyes, and spoke sincerely: “I’m tired now…tired of this boring bullying game. And you’re obviously tired of me, to the point of attempted murder.”
“So, let’s part ways here.”
Allen spread his hands; the movement strained his weak body, causing him to cough twice, but his tone remained steady.
“Since you don’t want to see me anymore, nor serve me as your ‘master,’ I’m giving you this chance. From this moment, your maid duties are officially over. As compensation for your past…well, ‘emotional distress,’ you’ll receive an extra two years’ wages and leave. I’ll personally discuss this with the butler to ensure the money reaches you. It should be a decent sum, enough to keep your family comfortable for a while, maybe even help your brothers find decent apprenticeships.”
Silence engulfed the room.
Only occasional bird calls echoed outside.
Marianne stared at Allen, her crimson eyes swirling with complex emotions: shock, doubt, caution, a flicker of vulnerability, and deep confusion.
She seemed desperately to analyze the true intent behind Allen’s words.
Was this another torture game?
Or…was it real?
Allen saw her wavering and decided to fan the last spark of hope—his only “chip” at this moment:
“Of course, you might think money can never make up for the harm I caused. You still want to kill me. Honestly…”
Allen forced an utterly exhausted, nearly hollow smile, “I don’t care. If you want to kill me, you can do it now. But, Marianne, think about the consequences. Kill me, the sole heir of House Laval, and you’re a confirmed regicide. You’ll instantly become a most-wanted criminal in the Kingdom. What about your family then? Where would they flee with you?”
Allen’s “threat” was like a sharp thorn, piercing Marianne’s deepest fears.
The killing intent and coldness in her eyes melted visibly like thin ice under the blazing sun, replaced by heavy confusion.
Her clenched fingers had loosened without her realizing it.
After what felt like an eternity, Marianne finally spoke, her voice losing some of its icy edge, gaining an indescribable complexity:
“Young Master…”
She seemed to want to say more, but swallowed it back.
She looked away, no longer gazing at Allen’s face that she hated so deeply yet found so bewildering, her eyes settling on the faded wallpaper.
“I think…you’ve probably been soaking in that lake water too long and aren’t quite clear-headed.”
Her tone regained some of the maid’s formality, but the murderous intent was gone.
“But since you’re awake, then my ‘job’ must begin.”
She turned briskly, without hesitation, and headed straight for the door.
“I’ll go tell Viscount Laval the good news of your ‘resurrection.’”
With that, the door gently closed behind her, leaving Allen alone on the wide, soft bed, facing the deepening dusk outside the window.
Negotiations…could this be called a success?
Allen wasn’t sure.
Marianne’s final attitude remained ambiguous, but at least he had safely passed the initial crisis.
He let out a long, silent sigh, his back soaked with cold sweat.
Just a few sentences exchanged felt more exhausting than fighting through the Knights’ Order in the last run.
Yet before he could relax, a more pressing and realistic question surfaced:
How was he going to deal with the “doting” father who was simultaneously the cause of House Laval’s instability—Bernard de Laval, Viscount Laval?
A new challenge, or rather, a new death flag, awaited him just beyond the door.