Upon hearing this sudden confession, Allen’s face maintained the calm, unruffled composure befitting a villain, yet his eyelids still twitched uncontrollably.
Scared me to death, so she likes me, I thought she was in love with me.
Allen’s thoughts momentarily spiraled into an indescribable confusion.
To be honest, Livia’s confession was both unexpected and, seemingly, within reason.
She was always like this. Once she pierced through the fog of her heart and recognized her feelings, she displayed a warrior’s unwavering determination and initiative.
Moreover, with Marianne, that yandere little black cat, as a precedent, Allen could no longer violently retort about his pure, unsullied yuri worldview collapsing just because the original novel’s heroine had fallen for him.
Besides, Livia was naturally attracted to both men and women anyway.
Her yuri relationship with Marianne was, strictly speaking, something he had one-sidedly tried to arrange.
Even so, the impact of being confessed to by the heroine face-to-face was still far too great.
Absurd. Absolutely absurd.
Just what kind of charm do I, a hopeless yuri enthusiast, possess?
One after another, regardless of gender, they all harbor inexplicable affection for him.
Could playing a “God’s Messenger” type of charlatan have this much lethality in this generally ignorant age?
Relying on this identity’s convenience, Allen had greatly accelerated society’s development, while simultaneously being watched by countless deities, and had even genuinely received a blessing from some unknown entity.
The more he thought about it, the more his head ached.
Just whose messenger am I anyway!
After briefly processing the immense shock from Livia’s confession, Allen’s mood quickly settled.
Honestly, he was still somewhat excited, or… moved.
The warm, soft sensation in his arms was so real. The unique charm of this breathtakingly beautiful super heroine protagonist was constantly eroding his frozen heart through the thin fabric of their clothes.
This time, Livia was probably serious.
Although it happened suddenly, liking someone never really needs a reason, just like his incurable love for yuri.
But the problem was, dealing with one Marianne already gave him a splitting headache.
If he added another Feng Aotian with explosive initiative and a tendency for emotional meltdowns, could he really avoid falling headfirst into this land of tenderness?
This world was too cold.
He was like a traveler lost in a snowy wasteland. If he truly craved the fleeting warmth of alcohol, he would eventually, smiling in comfortable delusion, be frozen to death.
People fantasize about the God’s Messenger coming to save them, but the Messenger himself also yearns to be saved.
Allen held no illusions. So, being liked by the heroine, though seemingly real, was nothing more than a flower in a mirror, a moon in the water.
He no longer cared about Livia’s complex inner journey.
He simply, gently, softly returned Livia’s embrace, his arms circling her slender waist, his palm touching, for the first time, the heroine’s platinum blonde hair, as smooth as moonlight.
Unlike Marianne’s soft black hair, the texture was fine and cool, as if holding a handful of flowing starlight.
At that moment, Allen suddenly felt life had no regrets.
This was it.
“But I refuse.”
Allen’s tone was devoid of any emotion, like a stubborn stone that wouldn’t ring.
The body in his arms suddenly stiffened, but she didn’t let go, only burying her head deeper.
“Livia, I don’t intend to ask why you like me, nor do I care whether your feelings stem from guilt, duty, or sympathy.”
“I just want to ask, will you participate in the upcoming battle?”
“I am your blade,” Livia’s voice came from his chest, carrying her usual unwavering determination. “Of course I will.”
“Good. Although you don’t want to be a knight, I still hope you become Livia the knight, the one I like most. You don’t need to be loyal to the king, you don’t need to be loyal to me. I just hope you can be loyal to yourself, loyal to justice.”
“You should use the sword in your hand to carve a path for humanity. As for romantic entanglements, perhaps one day your expectations will come true, but I think, maybe we’re destined to be tragic lovers.”
“Who calls themselves tragic lovers?”
Livia finally lifted her head, her blue eyes holding a hint of playful reproach.
“Something like that. I genuinely believe we have no good ending. No matter what you say, I won’t accept your feelings.”
“But that doesn’t stop me from liking you.”
“Yes, what you think is your business.”
“Do you like me?”
“I do like you a little. Saying I don’t would be a lie.” Allen admitted honestly, then quickly changed his tone.
“But we’re still far from being a perfectly matched couple! I’m telling you, I’m only fifteen. Though it’s youth, in the end, our hearts have aged before our bodies. You understand how complicated adult love is, right?”
“Huh? You’re demanding adult love already? But I’m pretty conservative. About doing that before marriage…”
“I’m the same, you idiot. Besides Marianne, we’re nobles. It’s better to have some decency.”
“So I really have been rejected?”
“Yes.”
Livia didn’t cry. She just said sorrowfully: “Allen Delagor, you are the first man I confessed to, and the first to reject me.”
“I’m sorry for stealing your first time twice.”
“Do you think saying something like that will make me hate you? Doesn’t your affection level go down?”
“I suppose this is love,” Livia’s tone suddenly became matter-of-fact. “With love, all flaws can be tolerated, like the fact that you’re a pervert who likes girls’ legs.”
“…Have you been assimilated by Marianne?”
“Do my stockings look good?”
Allen’s gaze, almost instinctively, fell on Livia’s legs wrapped in pure white stockings, lingering on that tantalizing absolute territory for a moment, then he honestly nodded.
“They look good.”
“See? That settles it.”
Livia finally released Allen. She stared into his eyes, reverting to her initial mode, the cold, proud knight princess.
She placed a hand over her chest and murmured: “So this is what rejection feels like… It hurts more than death.”
Hearing that, Allen’s poet mode automatically activated. He mused: “Death isn’t scary. Death is a cool summer night, perfect for peaceful slumber.”
“But I think your attitude toward death isn’t as calm as you appear to be.”
Allen changed his tone and said: “‘The world misjudged Allen yesterday, misjudges me today, and perhaps will misjudge me tomorrow. But I am still me, and I have never feared being misjudged.'”
Livia stared at him intently: “But my judgment of people has always been accurate. You rejected me simply because you’re afraid to face your own feelings, right? Just like how you analyzed that I was suppressing myself, you’re suppressing yourself too.”
Allen shrugged: “I won’t deny that.”
“Sigh.” Livia finally gave a relieved smile, a smile that held the confidence of certain victory.
“Allen, you are the greatest enemy, in every sense of the word. But I know you quite well. I’m a woman who doesn’t accept defeat easily. If you want me to be true to myself, then I won’t be like that Don Quixote in the story—laughable, yes, but still charging at those invincible enemies.”
She stepped forward, almost pressing against Allen’s face, and declared confidently:
“Allen, you’re a villain who toys with maidens’ hearts, so you’d better prepare to be pestered by me for the rest of your life. As a knight, I will make you, this ‘evil’ existence, reform.”
This Livia, she truly lived up to being the protagonist. After being rejected, she became even more spirited instead.
Allen was stunned: “You’ve even secretly read my satirical novel. What about Marianne, your beloved best friend?”
“She is my Sancho. We are best friends, fellow townspeople, equal partners.” Livia’s gaze was fiery, even somewhat mad.
“And you are my Dulcinea. Whether you like me or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that Marianne and I are going to accomplish glorious deeds for you.”
“I’ve always been a crazy woman. I think you understand that.”
“You really are quite crazy.” Allen nodded in agreement.
If Marianne was a tormenting yandere black cat, then Livia was a swift determined to build her nest in someone’s heart.
She yearned for freedom, yet was willing to stay temporarily for a safe harbor.
“Anyway, I can’t be both Allen Delagor and the God’s Messenger saving the world.” Allen tried to steer the conversation back on track.
But Livia’s gaze was as calm as a deep pool, as if she had already seen through all his disguises.
“I know. You love everyone, so you can’t love me exclusively.”
She changed her tone, adding a hint of something indefinable.
“But you’ve already given your exclusive love to Marianne, haven’t you?”
Those words made Allen’s scalp tingle. He quickly shook his head to hide his guilt: “Cough, don’t say that. That’s just me doting on my little sister normally. Yes, I’m just an incurable sister complex.”
“Is that so?” Livia suddenly leaned in closer, those blue eyes nearly pressing against his face, her breath carrying a hint of sweet girlish fragrance. “Can’t you also dote on your fiancée?”
The tail of her voice rose slightly, carrying a pleading, almost coquettish demand.
Ugh, ah!
She’s pulling this move?!
This was what Allen could least withstand. A usually cold, proud knight princess suddenly displaying such a girlish demeanor out of nowhere—the contrast was absolutely lethal.
He felt his defenses crumbling inch by inch, and finally let out a helpless sigh, completely conceding: “…How do you want me to dote on you?”
“Hmm…” Livia tilted her head, slender fingers tapping her chin as she thought seriously. “Say ‘Livia, I like you’ three times.”
“What kind of doting is that?”
Allen looked baffled but did it anyway, in a completely emotionless tone, like reciting scripture.
“Livia, I like you, like you, like you. Happy now?”
Livia frowned in dissatisfaction: “Too emotionless. Do it again.”
“Then what else do you want?” Allen spread his hands, wearing a “please have mercy on me” expression.
The next second, Livia imitated his earlier demeanor, schooling all expression from her face, and in a flat, emotionless tone, said word by word.
“I. Like. You.”
“You’re just as emotionless, hey!” Allen couldn’t help but retort. “That doesn’t sound like a confession at all. It sounds like someone’s got a sword to your throat forcing you to recite lines!”
“So,” a faint smile curved at the corner of Livia’s lips, “this perfectly proves that we truly love each other.”
Allen’s brain buzzed, feeling like his internal wiring had been fried by her unfathomable logic.
“Wait, wait!” He raised a hand in a time-out gesture, looking pained. “Don’t you score full marks in logic? I beg you, teach me how you derived that conclusion?”
“When it comes to liking someone, there’s no need for proof.” Livia casually sidestepped his question.
“By the way, about the battle you mentioned earlier, what exactly is it? Who do you want me to go after?”
The abrupt topic shift made Allen give up thinking entirely.
One second they were agonizing over relationship issues, the next seamlessly switching to military meeting mode.
It made all the previous emotional maneuvering seem like carefully choreographed flirtation.
No, Livia, isn’t your game too high-level?
Allen’s gaze turned somewhat suspicious. He stared at her clear, smiling eyes, trying to find a flaw.
“…I suddenly feel like this is all just your acting again, isn’t it? Do you even really like me?”
“Guess.”
“I won’t.”
In the end, the two decided to shelve their differences and develop together.
They happily discussed how to deal with the imminent counterattack from the guilds and sword-bearing nobles, looking for all the world like the male and female leads of a frustrating, back-and-forth love comedy.
They didn’t notice that not far away, hidden in the shadow of a tree, a pair of eyes behind lenses was calmly watching everything.
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