The drizzle continued unabated, the steed was settled in the stable, and the fire was rekindled in the cozy yet cramped cabin.
Sig, crouching by the hearth to warm himself, heard a stir in the room.
He looked up, and with just one glance, it felt like an eternity had passed.
“I’m waiting for you on Shenyang Street.”
What caught his eye was the drenched figure of the young girl, Emilia, silently standing in place.
Her small hands brushed across her forehead and ears, smoothing out her wet, silver hair.
Her thin dress clung tightly to her curvaceous figure, droplets of water trickling down her long, fair legs, dripping from her delicate feet.
She didn’t seem to mind Sig’s gaze on this scene, casually bending over and moving about her tasks.
Like eating or drinking, it wasn’t naivety—she simply saw no need to fuss.
They were good brothers, after all, and being overly guarded would seem odd.
If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t get such treatment.
“…”
At that moment, he scrutinized her for a few seconds with a critical eye, suppressing a smirk.
He thoroughly enjoyed—no, despised—such scandalous behavior.
Damn it.
“What a disgrace to morals,” he said.
“I, a 21st-century modern youth, summer camp soldier king, pioneer transmigrated to another world after being hit by a truck, member of the FFF Brigade, and devotee of Hakimi, cannot allow such things to happen. Come to my room, you shameless woman, I need to properly educate you.”
With that, he continued to appraise her with a critical gaze, swiftly—no, critically—scanning every inch of her skin, every detail.
He stood up but didn’t dare stand straight, awkwardly hunching over.
With a sudden gesture, he grabbed the unsuspecting girl.
With a bang, the door closed.
When it opened again, there was only a smug-looking Sig and Emilia, wrapped tightly in an oversized towel.
Her small head peeked out, utterly confused, with not a hint of allure left—not even a sliver of skin was allowed to show.
At that moment, he nodded, looking down at the girl with a slight squint, patting her head as if admiring a satisfactory piece of work.
He continued his lecture, righteous and stern, as if the one who had just been ogling her wasn’t him at all.
Classic case of pulling up his pants and pretending nothing happened.
“You need to be more careful in the future, stop wandering around like that. You have to understand, you’re a woman now…”
He paused, perhaps recalling something, his earlier trace of concern replaced by a half-smile.
He shook his head lightly, feeling a bit foolish for getting sentimental.
“Right, you’re probably used to it. Do you enjoy using that look to seduce that hero, Gerald? Quite the flirt, aren’t you? Too bad I’m a Sigma male.”
“No, it’s only with you that I’m this casual, this indifferent. Really, you’re the only one who’s seen me like this.”
She spoke earnestly, pursing her lips, at a loss.
As for the hero, they were more like friends.
If not for the system’s forced demands, for the sake of returning home… they might not even be friends.
Sure, the hero had always been interested in her, even confessed outright, but she couldn’t muster any interest or feelings for him.
Perhaps it was because she used to be a man…
“Do you think I’d believe that, Emilia?” Sig said, unimpressed. “Forget it, let’s not talk about it. Go to bed early, we’re leaving first thing tomorrow.”
Not wanting to waste more words, Sig stretched lazily, turned back, and continued warming himself by the fire.
He didn’t believe a word of her nonsense—no normal person would.
It was probably just a ploy to make him take the fall.
Hmph.
Twenty-something years with the hero, inseparable, childhood sweethearts, and you’re telling me nothing happened?
Not even a glance?
I don’t buy it.
Unless the hero’s a eunuch, brain-damaged, or has a different orientation.
Why?
Emilia’s gorgeous—any hero who could resist her is a god among men.
Me?
I’m different.
I’m all about self-discipline, upholding five thousand years of tradition.
The ways of our ancestors cannot be changed.
If she had chosen to go with me back then, maybe I’d have considered it… maybe we’d have had a connection.
Emilia sat by the window, her crimson eyes gazing at the hazy rain, her brows slightly furrowed as if lost in memories.
She curled up in the chair, her slender hands wrapping around her long legs, seeking a bit of comfort.
She didn’t continue the awkward topic.
Instead, she spoke of ten years ago.
After her parents died, she was taken in by a nun. It was then that her past life’s memories awakened, and the system activated—a strange sensation.
By chance, she encountered Sig, who had come to eliminate the hero in the starter village, exuding murderous intent and sneaking around.
With just one look, they recognized each other.
“By the way, Sig, how did you recognize me ten years ago?”
“Heh, just a coincidence.”
Truth be told, he was startled, though his face remained calm, as if he could see right through her.
What I’m thinking, you’re saying, huh?
Got a camera in my head or what?
Despite his tough talk, he answered seriously.
“I’d been looking for you for so long I almost lost track of time. So, I recognized you instantly. I figured, since we both got hit by that truck, there’s no way I’d be the only one transmigrated.”
He sighed, a hint of frustration, as if his conscience had been fed to the dogs.
He’d fought so hard for his brother, wanting to bring her home, only to find out his brother was a hopeless romantic playing dirty behind his back.
It’d be weird if he wasn’t upset.
“Should’ve just killed the hero and been done with it. I listened to your nonsense about keeping him alive for some use. Now it’s clear it was just your selfish crush. So, tell me, what’s so great about him? Spill it, let me have a laugh, and maybe I’ll tweak those traits you like so you don’t fall for me.”
“No, I…”
Due to the system, she didn’t know how to explain.
She stood there, frozen, silent.
A sudden wave of grievance hit her.
She hadn’t shed a tear when she was exiled from the empire or humiliated, but now tears welled up unbidden.
She was doing this for her brother, for the chance to go home, but it was like eating bitter herbs in silence—unable to speak her pain.
Sig, however, took her silence as confirmation, shrugging and waving dismissively.
“Fine, fine, don’t want to talk? Don’t explain. I’m sick of hearing it. Just go to bed, we’ve got an early start tomorrow. Stop bothering me.”
After saying this, his mood lightened a bit. Humming a tune, he went back to warming himself by the fire.
Unexpectedly, the silent Emilia approached like a ghost, a storm brewing.
Her tone was devoid of jest, almost commanding.
“Let’s go, to bed, Sig. This is the only way I can think of to prove my innocence. If I’m still a virgin, my body still pure, you have to apologize to me, stop mentioning the hero, and quit with the crude jokes.”
“Huh?”
In the palace, deep in the silent night, Emperor Gerald stood alone on the terrace, bathed in moonlight, feeling the breeze.
He held Emilia’s photo, his other hand not quite so innocent.
It moved back and forth, as if fiddling with something.
He was performing a Crescent Moon Strike, muttering the name of the girl he longed for day and night.
“Emilia, Emilia, Emilia.”
“I love you, I love you.”
Memories flooded in—details he hadn’t noticed before, things he took for granted, all rushing forth.
Her every smile, her sacrifices, her companionship… the more he thought of her, the greater and more beautiful she seemed.
In the end, he thought of the evidence, those nobles—damn them—and the regret of wrongly accusing her.
Full of remorse, accompanied by a white stain on the photo.
He spoke solemnly, as if confessing.
“I will find you, make you my queen, I swear. This time, I won’t let you down.”
Seig will never do it, he’s too much of a coward to take the initiative