There was no Age of Discovery!
No Da Gama, no Columbus, no global exchange of species!
So where did these exotic spices—pepper, cinnamon, cloves—that were clearly from distant tropical lands and worth their weight in gold come from?
Such a large, stable supply of top-tier exotic spices, accessible even to a financially struggling viscount’s household dinner, could not have come from sporadic adventures!
There must be a huge, stable, and monopolized trade network behind it.
The production team was known to be a detail-obsessed sadist who could devise a thousand deaths for Allen de Laval.
Would such a glaring “bug” that violated the basic worldview be an oversight?
Allen set down his cutlery, the silverware and porcelain clinking crisply.
He turned to his restless father and asked curiously:
“Father, tonight’s dishes are truly impressive, especially the layers of flavor in these spices. Quite unforgettable.”
He pointed to the sauce left on his plate.
“But…I’m curious. The kingdom doesn’t produce precious spices like pepper and cinnamon, does it? Where do they come from? The prices must be high, and given our current situation…”
He stopped at the right moment, leaving the unspoken “how can our family afford this?” hanging in the air.
The son’s question was like a lifeline, restoring Bernard’s sense of superiority as a “well-informed” noble.
He straightened his slightly pudgy belly and reassembled the familiar, slightly boastful smile.
“Ah! Spices! They’re a mark of status and taste!” he said enthusiastically.
“Common herbs like fennel, rosemary, and lavender can be grown on our own lands.”
“Others, like nutmeg and ginger, come from the warm Duchy to the south or even farther Eastern Kingdoms, transported across oceans by merchant ships. The journey is long, pirates abound, so naturally the prices soar.”
“As for the finest spices, like the pepper, cinnamon, and cloves you just tasted… those precious treasures have a stable supply channel only through The Church!”
The Church?
Allen’s pupils constricted almost imperceptibly as he asked,
“Do you know where the Church’s precious spices come from?”
“Exactly where…”
Bernard shrugged and made a vague gesture, his face filled with awe.
“Only those high-ranking Red-robed Elders in the Holy City know. It’s the Church’s secret, a sacred secret! Mortal men must not pry!”
A sacred secret?
Allen’s heart was hit as if by a heavy hammer, then began pounding wildly.
Clues scattered like pearls instantly strung together by the golden thread named “The Church”!
Whether in the Original Work Starshine Romance or its setting guides, the truth about the world and Emblem Power remained vague.
Only the Church storyline, like a cryptic riddle, faintly revealed the iceberg’s tip of the original work’s vast worldbuilding.
Allen thought of his key to breaking the cycle!
In the Church storyline, the Inquisition relentlessly pursued Livia von Stern, who possessed the Star Emblem, relying on an Artifact capable of suppressing Emblem Power!
Spice monopoly networks, sacred secrets, an Artifact that could counter Emblem Power…
This was no mere religious organization.
It was the ultimate hidden power controlling the core secrets and vast resources of this world!
A wild, enticing thought exploded in Allen’s mind like lightning in darkness:
If…if he could connect to the Church’s network, or even obtain an Artifact that suppresses Emblem Power…
Then Livia von Stern, that proud sky-born daughter with the Star Emblem who had trampled him countless times…
Wouldn’t she be—
“…”
Allen hastily lowered his head, pretending to choke on the sauce and began coughing violently to hide the sinister, villainous grin nearly splitting his face.
Hahaha! Livia von Stern! Your doom is coming!
What perfect heroine, what Star Emblem!
Against the combined dimensional blow of a transmigrator plus the Church’s Artifact, they were all paper tigers!
Allen couldn’t help but slip into the role of a lowly villain.
He started fantasizing about Livia von Stern, pinned down and suppressed by the Church’s Artifact, her flawless face finally cracking, revealing humiliation, shock, disbelief.
And he, with a devilish smile, elegantly lifting her stubborn chin with the tip of his sword, demanding:
“Tell me, who’s the weakling now?”
What a delightfully satisfying scene!
Just as Allen’s mental drama reached its climax, Bernard, who had been somewhat restless and diligently finishing his food, suddenly seemed to remember some crucial yet long-forgotten trivial matter.
He smacked his forehead sharply, the crisp sound echoing.
“Oh! Right!”
He looked up at his still daydreaming son with a complex expression of relief mixed with dread.
“Speaking of which, son, I almost forgot to tell you. Your fiancée is apparently coming to visit you tomorrow.”
The world fell silent.
The faint clink of cutlery and porcelain, the crackling of the fireplace wood, the occasional hoot of a night owl outside…
All sounds seemed instantly strangled by an invisible hand.
The villainous smile still faintly lingering on Allen’s face froze completely.
He slowly, stiffly turned his head toward his fake father.
The eyes that had just burned with the fire of revenge were now filled only with pure, icy confusion.
Fiancée???
What kind of multiverse-level joke was this?!
He, Allen de Laval, the infamous scoundrel and noble disgrace of the capital, the future poor young master who was publicly executed by Prince Charlie Durand at the last graduation banquet and stabbed to death by the heroine…
How could he possibly have a fiancée?!
Having a fiancée did not fit the underlying logic of Starshine Serenade’s world at all!
What family’s headstrong daughter would be crazy enough to jump aboard this sinking, bankrupt ship?
Did she have a death wish?
Or was the family collectively brainwashed by a cult?
“Huh?!”
Allen’s voice shot up in incredulous absurdity.
“Me?! A fiancée?! Father, are you sure you didn’t have that cheap ale you stash as breakfast milk today? Or have we finally gotten so broke that we need to sell my ‘engagement’ to pay off debts? What kind of girl would be…uh, so discerning, to betroth herself to someone like me?!”
Bernard’s face flushed red from the rapid-fire questioning, awkwardly wiping nonexistent sweat from his temple.
He stammered to explain: “Ahem…well…that happened just a few days ago. You know, from that Border Count family that just moved to the capital.”
Border Count?!
That name sounded oddly familiar.
He remembered that the heroine Livia’s father was also a Border Count.
A bad feeling crept into Allen’s heart.
Bernard didn’t notice his son’s suddenly pale face and continued talking to himself.
“The Border Count is technically a higher noble equal to a Marquis, but their base is in a remote border area. In the capital, they have no connections or power, just a royal title—basically ‘country bumpkins.’”
“Most nobles in the capital look down on them as peasants. So their family probably wants to quickly find an ally to stabilize their position. And coincidentally, our family…well, you know our situation…also needs some ‘support.’”
Bernard skirted over their family’s brink of bankruptcy.
“So you sold me off?”
Allen couldn’t help but complain, “You could’ve at least told me before selling me! I deserve some cut!”
“The Border Countess came personally to discuss the alliance. I asked your opinion!”
Bernard defended himself.
“That day you had just returned from your ‘walk’ in the lower city and seemed in a good mood. I told you the Border Count family wanted a marriage alliance. You said, ‘Oh, whatever, any sane girl who actually sees someone like me would run off with the carriage overnight. Might as well marry and earn some betrothal gifts for free.’”
“You seemed quite willing, so I just…accepted the Border Countess’s proposal for now.”
Allen’s mind was hammered like a blacksmith’s anvil.
Fragments of the original owner’s memories surged back—this was indeed true!
The engagement existed, but as the original owner expected, it ended without result for various reasons.
The fiancée had never even appeared.
Naturally, this event never triggered on his “death cycle radar.”
Since the fiancée’s visit never occurred in countless of Allen’s loops, why was it happening this time?
The world line had shifted, and Allen couldn’t predict what would happen next.
But he knew one thing: Things were never that simple!
Would this world, so hostile to him, grant him even the slightest happiness?
No way—it was the Grim Reaper disguised as his fiancée, here to collect his soul!
A chill surged from Allen’s soles to his scalp.
He grabbed the edge of the table so hard his knuckles whitened, his voice trembling slightly, though he didn’t notice: “Wa…wait! Father, what’s the name of the Border Count’s daughter?”
Bernard frowned, trying to recall: “Um…I think it’s…Livia? Yes, Livia von Stern.”
“She’s supposed to be quite talented? But coming from the countryside, how powerful can she really be…”
“Pfft—!!!”
Allen felt as if struck by invisible lightning.
He froze in his seat, eyes wide as saucers, his face drained of all color, left only with the ultimate shock and absurdity of being “struck by heaven’s wrath.”
Livia von Stern?!
Was she his…fiancée???
The very death goddess who personally nailed him to the floor last cycle?!
The heroine of Feng Aotian’s story he had just imagined torturing with the Church’s Artifact—over and over!
Damn it!
What a joke is this ahhhhhhhhhh!!!
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