He actually liked her all along, admired her diligence and tenacity.
But in the past, he had watched his own son bully her, yet out of damned “noble dignity” and distorted indulgence, chose to look away.
What made him so cold?
Was it the arrogance of nobility?
Or that numbness deeply rooted, thinking the suffering of the lower class was natural?
Perhaps, to climb onto the “noble” pedestal, he had unconsciously twisted and alienated himself into the very person he once despised—a cold, snobbish exploiter who treated lives like grass.
Fortunately, he still had Allen.
His son’s rebirth was like a light, illuminating not only Allen himself but piercing through Bernard’s long-standing gloom, helping him find a bit of human warmth again.
That was enough.
His guilt toward Marianne steeled a silent resolve to cherish her as his own daughter.
He had always wanted a lovely daughter.
But his wife’s early death took away all his love, and he never remarried.
Now, watching the three discussing accounts under candlelight, Bernard’s long-suppressed longing for “family” was filled like never before.
He had so many family members now—this was the dream he had chased all his life.
He felt immense happiness, but the more real the happiness, the more he feared—
Feared that this fragile warmth would be torn apart by the merciless wind, rain, and dark conspiracies outside the window.
“Father, please have a seat.”
Allen’s voice broke Bernard’s thoughts.
He looked up to see his son smiling and beckoning.
“I’m discussing with Old Jean how to cut unnecessary household expenses. There’s a lot of waste if you look closely, like those intelligence tax-heavy collectibles you buy. Their annual upkeep alone could feed us for a month.”
“Son, you really have grown up.”
Bernard’s voice choked again.
He hurried over, pulled out a chair, and sat down, eyes lingering on his son’s face full of unabashed pride and emotion.
Seeing his usually stormy viscount father look like he might burst into tears at any moment, Allen inwardly chuckled.
This noble lord who was fierce and commanding outside suddenly turned so sentimental at home?
As Bernard settled, Jean closed the ledger, and Marianne straightened.
The serious family meeting concerning the survival of the Laval house, led by Allen, officially began amid the pounding rain outside.
“Father.”
Allen’s smile vanished, his expression solemn.
“First, we need to clarify: who is our enemy? Or rather, which groups are suspected? Who is it that uses such vile and underhanded methods to try to drag the Laval family into an abyss of no return?”
He went straight to the point.
Bernard took a deep breath, knowing there was no need to hide now.
He gathered his thoughts and said in a low voice, “Most likely…the Hardliner Faction.”
“The Hardliner Faction?”
A sharp curiosity flickered in Allen’s eyes.
Bernard nodded, slowly explaining the iceberg beneath the sinking nation:
“Our country, the Kingdom of Lorraine, seems calm on the surface but has long been caught in a whirlpool of division.”
He recounted the past of the old king Louis XI: a monk who had been stripped of inheritance and devoted himself to the church, who unexpectedly ascended the throne after the violent death of his brutal elder brother.
For the first ten years of his reign, he practiced frugality, appointed the wise and capable, and once ushered in a prosperous era.
However, recent years have been plagued by disasters and calamities—droughts, floods, plagues striking one after another, leaving the kingdom in turmoil.
Louis XI blamed it all on “divine punishment,” withdrawing from public affairs to focus on his own spiritual practice and effectively relinquishing power.
Thus, authority passed to his two children—
Prince Charlie Durand and Princess Charlotte Durand.
“Prince Charlie,” Bernard said with a barely perceptible fear, “controls the kingdom’s military forces. The Noble Swordsmen, those nobles with ancient emblems and vast fiefs, swarm around him like sharks smelling blood. They worship force and believe in iron-fisted rule.”
“And Princess Charlotte,” Bernard’s tone softened, “holds the administrative power. The Robe Nobles and civil officials representing the emerging bourgeoisie rally under her banner. They prefer to govern through laws and negotiation.”
The two were pulled by their respective interest groups into a fierce power struggle over the kingdom’s future path.
Especially with years of natural disasters causing peasants to be displaced and frequent tax rebellions, the kingdom’s finances teetering on collapse, their divide had become irreconcilable.
“The Hardliner Faction represented by Prince Charlie,” Bernard’s voice sank, “holds extreme views. They believe: ‘People are the root of all problems! Eliminate the rebellious peasants, and the problems will be solved!’ They even openly declare: ‘Every noble’s spear tip should be adorned with the heads of nine rebel farmers—it’s only right!’”
Allen frowned.
“And the Moderate Faction led by Princess Charlotte,” Bernard continued, “advocates easing tensions, redistributing wealth to placate the displaced, restoring production, trying to solve problems fundamentally. They believe harsh rule is worse than a tiger and repression will only provoke greater resistance.”
The old King Louis XI’s ambiguous stance on his heirs further deepened this rift.
He neither clearly supported Prince Charlie nor fully trusted the princess, seemingly waiting for some “Divine Revelation” to decide the kingdom’s future.
This country had long been swaying in silent smoke and rain.
Listening to his father, Allen’s frown deepened.
That old king…what a player!
Hiding away, dumping the mess on his children to fight over.
Is he aiming to “train his shape to be like a crane”?
Allen recalled the original story of Starlight Romance.
The original took place mostly in the Saint Norra Emblem Academy, a romance game that generally avoided direct political depictions, only hinting at characters’ positions and fates through gameplay.
Prince Charlie’s route was a strategy war game where the player controlled the kingdom’s army to suppress rebellions, even facing an imperial invasion.
No matter how brilliantly the player fought, that route ended with the prince’s defeat and death, with only the epilogue differing: If the empire won, the ending read: “The mounted knights cannot outrun the wheels of history.”
If Lorraine won, the epilogue was: “The ancient emblem shines brilliantly; we saved ‘everything,’ we won eternal twilight.”
Allen had played the prince’s route and found the producer’s regret for his failed reign moving.
This Machiavellian monarch, treating all beings as chess pieces, only realized at his last moment he himself was on the board.
Charlie Durand’s lifetime pursuit of power was but a dream.
He wandered at happiness’s door but never noticed that beside him was a woman who could have brought him true joy.
But he never got to meet her again.
Players might pity the prince there.
But after his father’s background, Allen only felt this future tyrant deserved death more than any villain like himself!
The princess route was a simulation management game where the player helped Princess Charlotte run the kingdom’s economy, aid disaster victims, restore production, and try to save the people.
This route was far more difficult than the prince’s.
Under enormous financial pressure, not a penny could be wasted, or the fragile economy would collapse instantly.
Worse, rebellions sparked by the Noble Swordsmen happened constantly (even randomly), and the empire invaded late in the game.
Charlotte’s only military force was Livia von Stern and her Order of Command Knights.
This was the hardest part.
The Command Knights were the standing army—loyal and strong, but maintaining such an elite force required vast sums.
Army formation costs money, recruitment costs money, arms and armor cost money, logistics cost money, upkeep costs money, pensions cost money…
Any money earned quickly disappeared into this bottomless pit.
Players truly felt the immense challenge of sustaining a crumbling nation.
Some might ask: Why not cut military spending early and ramp it up later when the economy improves?
That’s a clever idea.
But the greatest pressure comes early.
If the player loses once early, the Noble Swordsmen succeed in restoration and crush the moderates.
Queen Charlotte and Livia would be dragged to the guillotine hand in hand.
If the player only develops the economy and ignores the military, the kingdom dies in war.
If they overinvest in the military and neglect the economy, the kingdom faces peasant uprisings and also falls.
Because of this brutal difficulty, players call the princess route the “Chongzhen Simulator.”
Fortunately, there is no scripted death in the princess route; player efforts are rewarded.
If Livia’s stats are high enough (trained earlier at the academy), and management is good, the princess route can end in the “Happy End” of the century’s great lily wedding.
Charlotte Durand will realize the simple wish that every citizen can drink a bowl of chicken soup daily, her title as the “Wise King” forever recorded in history.
The producers wrote the two heirs’ routes with subtlety.
Games are games; reality is not so simple.
God knows which path Livia will take now?
The Hardliners and Moderates will probably fight to the death.
Allen knew the kingdom’s tensions were severe but never expected the upper echelon’s split to be so extreme—party strife worse than fire and flood!
There is no second sun in the sky, no second lord to the people.
The old king’s neglect was like putting the entire kingdom on a slow roast!
This country is doomed!
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