The world I transmigrated into is a melodramatic, angst-filled fantasy RPG—so, of course, the main focus is all about suffering and romance.
On the Saintess Route, your goal is to help the Saintess Main Party grow stronger. In the end, they all chase after the Demon King Chloe, and finally, you watch her die in your arms—heartbroken, powerless to change anything.
On the Demon King Route, your objective is to help Chloe grow stronger, then forcibly gather the Saintess and other female characters into your own harem—they run, you chase, but no matter how hard they try, they can’t escape.
But throughout all of this, there was never a place for Luo Lan.
The young man rubbed his chin thoughtfully… The reason a “supporting tool” is called just that, is because when you’re done using them, you throw them away. Last round, after helping the Saintess Main Party grow, he simply died—so this time around, to avoid meeting the same end after helping the Demon King, Luo Lan decided to put his own initiative to full use.
He started to… control Chloe’s leveling.
What kind of drama is the best to watch? Rivalry.
What makes rivalries exciting? Balance of power. Awesome battles.
If the gap is too big—if there’s a total overpower—there’s no excitement at all.
Here’s what we know: Last round, it was precisely because he poured all his efforts into helping the Saintess Party, that they were able to finally defeat Demon King Chloe.
Here’s what else we know: The perfect ending on the Demon King Route is when Demon King Chloe subdues every member of the Saintess Party, no one dies, and everyone bows out gracefully.
And one more thing: If he helps Chloe reach her peak, he’ll be killed off by the plot.
So the solution naturally reveals itself.
Prolong the time it takes for her to reach her peak—keep her just a hair stronger than the Saintess Party, but never quite able to win outright. Let all these girls keep pulling each other back, competing and clashing, so that while they’re locked in their tug-of-war, Luo Lan can quietly develop and, in the end, dodge the bad ending.
But plans are alluring; reality is always harsher. Luo Lan’s only cheat left is this Block, whose functions even now aren’t fully clear—so far, all it can do is turn into a book and display which spells can be learned. But the problem is, this little bit isn’t nearly enough for a genius like Chloe.
Aside from those spells restricted by bloodlines and seals, every other magic Luo Lan mastered had been fully taught to Chloe in the very first year. The only reason he’s lasted this long is because, while cramming at the last minute, he also relied on his “Secret Arts Master” class, using its ability to skip chanting and directly manipulate magic elements to barely keep up.
But even the deepest well eventually runs dry.
Luo Lan opened the book formed by the Block, and the once-crowded table of contents now only had a few lines left.
“Never thought I’d actually control myself into a corner,” he muttered.
Afraid of Chloe struggling, but also afraid of her becoming too fierce.
He’d started off worried that Chloe would learn too fast, but now he was actually on the verge of having nothing left to teach.
If that really happened—if Chloe’s progress stalled—wouldn’t everything just circle back to the start? The Demon King pierced by the Judgement Sword, and himself discarded silently as a spent pawn in the smoke of battle.
But one good thing this round—because Luo Lan helped Chloe get a head start, their relationship was at least pretty amicable. At least there wasn’t as much wariness and suspicion as at the beginning, though in exchange, Chloe had developed little habits like sneaking over to see him when she couldn’t sleep at night.
Thinking of this, Luo Lan closed the book and rubbed his sore temples. Moonlight poured through the window lattice, casting a mottled shadow on the desk before him.
Time was running short. In a few days, the Saintess Festival would be held in the Rodran Capital—the prologue where the Saintess and the Demon King meet for the first time, the very first main quest in the game.
Suddenly, a draft swept in from who knows where, lifting the heavy curtains and flipping through the thick book made from the Block. The pages rustled, finally stopping on one Luo Lan had never seen before.
A single line ran across the page, not of one color, but gold and purple interwoven, with faint shimmering light that seemed to pulse, alive, upon the paper.
“Hm?”
Luo Lan picked up the book for a closer look, but a sudden, sharp pain shot through his fingertip. He drew back, seeing a bead of blood well up from a paper-cut, dripping right onto that black line.
What… is this?
The blood was instantly absorbed by the black line, and then, the line came alive.
First, the name “Valgard, Rodran Capital” appeared across the page. Then, the gold and purple lines branched off to the right, each splitting into parallel paths that ran all the way to the end of the sheet.
Luo Lan stared, mouth hanging open in shock.
What’s this, telling me in no uncertain terms that the Saintess Festival is the big branching point?
But with all those dialogues and events in the story, who knows which choices actually matter for the future? What if it all comes down to something ridiculous like “which foot you step out the door with today” and he gets a bad end for some nonsense reason?
Just as Luo Lan was about to close the book, the pages turned themselves again, and a surge of unfamiliar information flooded his mind. The sudden dizzy spell nearly made him collapse, tongue lolling and eyes rolling back.
But… the good news was, the info was about the Block’s true ability—
[Conceptual Fantasy]
Can copy a skill possessed by a target stored in your own memory, and mimic the target’s thinking patterns. Success requires a deep enough memory of the target; this ability can also be used to acquire the target’s true information.
The bad news… this function can only be activated once you enter Valgard, the capital. Not entirely unreasonable, Luo Lan supposed—after all, everything he was doing now could be considered “jumping the gun,” and the festival in the capital was the official start of the plot.
Luo Lan rubbed his aching temples.
Was this the hidden cheat for the second round? Or a reward for skipping the cutscenes?
He tried to activate the ability, and the line on the book’s page flickered briefly, then fell silent again.
Sure enough, he couldn’t use it yet.
Still, aside from Chloe’s unstable magic circuits, she’d gotten stronger than ever these past few years under his guidance. In the original story, when the Saintess Festival began, Chloe had nothing but top-notch magical talent, yet could barely cast a wind blade or two.
Now, Chloe was proficient in all four elements—ice, fire, lightning, and darkness. She’d mastered every fourth-tier spell, and had even picked up several fifth-tier spells from the Iron Tome. Even in terms of magic usage techniques, she’d learned plenty on her own. Heh, at this rate, when she meets Saintess Ophelia at the festival, she’ll definitely make Ophelia’s eyes pop right out of her head.
But the more Luo Lan thought about it, the more he found himself staring at those two intertwined gold-and-purple lines on the page, lost in thought.
“Can we win?”
Last round, even with the system giving him full-body buffs, he barely fought Saintess Ophelia to a draw. Her powerful Holy Light Spell could envelop an entire city, and the Judgement Sword she summoned could tear open the heavens.
But now all Luo Lan had was the Iron Tome—no gear, no levels. If something happened to Chloe at the festival, could he really outfight the Saintess?
While it was nice to have the support skill unlocked, the book hadn’t mentioned anything about limits. Luo Lan doubted the reality would be so ideal—he’d need to find a chance to test it.
He let out a light sigh, then closed the book with a wry smile. The Block reassembled in his palm, returning to its usual, chilly metallic cube form.
Outside, the snow was falling harder, rattling softly against the window.
Chloe was sitting at her vanity, humming softly to herself.
The mirror reflected her as she shed her outer clothes, porcelain skin glowing warm beneath the candlelight. The maids’ hands moved gently as they loosened her corset, wrapping her in a silk nightgown.
“Your Highness,” Ailiya’s mechanical-sounding voice came from outside the door, “the hot water is ready.”
Steam curled through the bathroom as Chloe sank into the tub, only her head above water.
Droplets ran down her silver hair, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone. She watched the rose petals floating on the surface, reaching out to gather them in front of her. The heat of the bath made Chloe’s skin take on a lovely pink hue.
After her bath, the maids dressed her in a nightdress, then dabbed a touch of rose oil on the ends of her hair. Chloe curled up in the center of the bed—big enough for four—tossing and turning.
She was in a good mood; Luo Lan’s lessons were slowing down, which meant she could spend even more time with him.
Of course, she had to deliberately rein in her own learning speed… These days, Chloe regretted how she used to push herself so hard to finish lessons early, all for the sake of getting dismissed.
—There should have been much, much more time!
Mmm… She couldn’t sleep.
“Ailiya.” Chloe suddenly sat up, her silver hair tumbling over her shoulders. “Go bring Luo Lan here.”
The mage in a maid’s dress paused, then spoke in surprise-soft tones. “Your Highness, it’s already very late.”
“I know.” Chloe hugged her knees, chin resting atop them. “I want him to tell me a story.”
Ailiya’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.
“Your Highness, perhaps this—”
“You’re mine,” Chloe interrupted. “He’s mine too. Is there any problem with me ordering you both to do as I say?”
Ailiya opened her mouth, thinking it was time to remind her mistress about certain boundaries, but in the end, she only nodded, bowing as she left.
Expressionless, she went to Luo Lan’s room, rapped three times on the door. When it opened, Luo Lan’s face appeared in the warm yellow light, looking a bit confused.
“Her Highness requests your presence.” She added in a softer voice, “She wants you to… tell her a story.”
Luo Lan’s face went blank for a second.
On the way to Chloe’s room, Ailiya walked ahead, Luo Lan following, their shadows stretched long along the walls. Just before the door, Ailiya suddenly stopped and, in a voice only the two of them could hear, spoke.
“Mr. Luo Lan.”
“Hm?”
“Her Highness carries the blood of Rufenias.” She paused. “And you… you’re just a mage from the East.”
Though spoken gently, Luo Lan understood the warning.
“I know,” he answered softly.
Ailiya bowed, then opened the door for him.
Inside, it was warm—the fireplace crackling. Chloe curled up in the middle of the bed, hugging a velvet pillow. When she heard them, she looked up, ruby eyes reflecting the flickering firelight.
“You’re here.”
“Mm…”
Luo Lan suddenly felt a little at a loss.
He thought of Ailiya’s words, the twin lines on the book’s page, the new magic he hadn’t yet learned… All kinds of thoughts collided inside his head.
“Come, sit here.”
Chloe patted the edge of the bed.
“Your Highness, this isn’t proper.”
“I make the rules. This castle is mine. Even you are mine.” She tilted her head, silver hair sliding down her shoulder. “If I say it’s proper, then it is.”
In the end, Luo Lan didn’t press the issue, but he kept a distance that made Chloe arch an eyebrow.
He sat on a stool by the bed, a full yard from her. Chloe stared at him for a moment, then scooted closer and tossed the pillow into his lap.
“Go on,” she said. “Tell me more stories from your homeland.”