To most people, living is a journey that requires some effort but can always be carried on.
But for Allen de Laval, simply staying alive is the ultimate challenge against the damn underlying logic of this world.
He was like a mayfly pinned to the specimen board of fate—no matter how hard he flapped his wings, he couldn’t escape the glass dome named “born at dawn, dead by dusk.”
In the source code of Starry Brilliance Serenade, there was no route where Allen could avoid the Game Over Route.
Why?
Why should he be thrown into this endless hell, repeatedly experiencing countless bizarre deaths, paying the price for the sins committed by that bastard original owner?
All he wanted was to be a quiet salted fish, find a way to earn some money after graduation, revive the nearly bankrupt family, and live a decently unremarkable aristocratic life without attracting so much hatred.
Was that too much to ask?
The world answered him again and again with bloody deaths: yes, it was very much so.
When Allen first transmigrated, he still harbored some naive illusions.
He had studied quite a few villain-themed stories, where villains could turn over a new leaf and get along with the original characters to reach a happy end, right?
But those naive fantasies were soon crushed by reality. No one wanted to be friends with Allen, the notorious “Villain Young Master.”
Livia von Stern transformed from a frontier village girl to the academy goddess thanks to her overpowered Star Emblem.
This was an otome world revolving around the great heroine, with the protagonist’s aura blinding everyone’s eyes.
And Allen de Laval?
He was just a miscellaneous villain whose “character background story” was too lazy to even be written in detail.
What he possessed was the experience of countless death cycles carved into his bones, the ruthlessness forced out of him, and…a hatred strong enough to burn the world down.
He hated this full world, the unfair Emblems, and the tragic fate of repetitive deaths.
He was no longer the transmigrator who once trembled even killing a chicken.
To survive, he could do anything—even bear sins stained with blood.
Murder the protagonist?
He tried it but was exposed and counter-killed by Livia on the spot.
Join the Crimson Spiral Cult?
He did, but those anti-human scums were even more detestable to him than Livia.
So he slaughtered his way through the cult, only to be consumed by the False Crest and turned to ashes.
He had no right to stand on a moral high ground to condemn Marian because, essentially, both were souls forever burned by the flames called vengeance, willing to become demons for it.
Allen leaned against the soft pillow, feeling the weakness after drowning and the long-missed moment of peace, while his mind raced.
Livia’s solemn figure kept replaying in his head as he started reviewing his last failure.
Livia’s seemingly perfect swordsmanship…had flaws, but at that time, he was blinded by secret medicine and rage.
If…if he had been a bit calmer, could he have really left a scar on that perfect phoenix-faced goddess?
If he perfectly avoided all the incidents, he would still die.
So, if he were to start a new cycle early, what strategy should he adopt to face the coming challenges?
Allen racked his brains for a way out, when suddenly, his door was slammed open with a bang!
A slightly chubby middle-aged man in a silk robe almost rolled into the room, tears and snot all over his face, completely lacking noble demeanor.
He rushed to the bedside like a cannonball and grabbed Allen’s hand—
“Oh! Allen! My dear son! The Lord has mercy!”
Viscount Bernard de Laval’s voice trembled like a leaf in the wind, tears streaming down, “You finally woke up! I thought…I thought I was going to lose you like I lost your mother! If anything happened to you again, I… I…”
He choked up, unable to speak, only gripping Allen’s hand tightly as if letting go would make his son vanish.
Allen’s heart burned warmly at his father’s hand.
The original owner’s mother had died early, and Bernard, probably out of guilt, spoiled his son excessively, blindly indulging the original owner’s misdeeds, which led to bitter consequences.
But in this malicious world, Bernard was the only person who loved him.
Father and son had always relied on each other through countless cycles.
Ironically, this doting father also couldn’t escape the ending in the original work, where the Crown Prince’s purge led to their family’s ruin.
They were the epitome of a “must-die” bond.
Seeing his father crying like a 200-pound child, Allen’s cold anxiety was slightly softened by a bittersweet warmth.
He instinctively reached out and gently patted his father’s heaving back, speaking unusually softly: “Alright…Father, I’m fine now. Stop crying, see? I’m perfectly okay.”
Allen’s soothing effect was immediate; Bernard’s wailing stopped abruptly.
Only, Allen’s effort was misdirected.
Bernard suddenly looked up, his tear-streaked face filled with suspicion and doubt, his eyes scanning Allen’s face like searchlights.
In the doorway’s shadow stood the black-haired Head Maid Marian silently, her crimson eyes flashing with a heavy vigilance.
The air instantly froze; the awkward atmosphere was thick enough to scoop out the entire de Laval Viscount’s mansion.
Allen’s heart sank.
Crap!
I messed up!
Would the original chaos demon be so gentle in comforting others?
Would he show such a “filial and affectionate” expression with his father?
That guy would only make a sour face, pretend to be mute, or even hurl abuse when faced with an overly affectionate father!
Just now was a reflex; he forgot he hadn’t repaired their relationship at this point yet!
One drowning episode and he suddenly changed personality?
This script was too fake!
In desperation, Allen’s thoughts were split by lightning.
A memory fragment from before transmigration suddenly surfaced—he had been desperately pursuing the Hidden Route of Starry Brilliance Serenade, the Church Line!
The Church Line was known as the hardest and most difficult route to enter in the original work.
To access the Church Line, one must perfectly clear all endings.
Upon re-entry, the game’s starting time would be moved forward to before entering the academy, which perfectly matched Allen’s current situation!
In the original Starry Brilliance Serenade, the Church openly opposed the nobility’s abuse of Emblems, standing naturally at odds with the royals who used Emblems as their ruling legitimacy.
The boundary.
The choice.
Saint Norra Emblem Academy was established by the royal family to weaken the Church’s influence.
Entering the academy meant clearly drawing a line from the Church.
In past cycles, Allen started new runs only within the academy and never had a chance to contact the Church. But now, he had a new key to break through—right here!
The Church’s position perfectly matched his “Emblem-less commoner” identity!
As the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
If Allen joined the Church and gained its protection, the tragedy of being framed and killed by Crown Prince Charlie Durand wouldn’t so easily occur again!
More importantly, the original work was extremely secretive about the Church.
Joining it might even reveal the truth behind his death cycles!
The problem was, Allen wasn’t a believer.
How could he connect with the Church?
He almost instantly came up with a plan.
Pretend to be a fanatic!
Attract the Church’s attention!
This trick was foolproof in such a superstitious age!
Facing his father’s suspicious gaze that seemed to pierce his face, Allen immediately slipped into character.
He painfully held his forehead, furrowed his brows, his face showing just the right amount of confusion and overwhelming fatigue, his voice weak and slightly vague:
“Father…I…I feel strange. It’s like…I had a very long, long dream…”
His eyes blankly stared into space, “So much light…golden, warm…yet cold and piercing…After waking up, many things…I can’t remember…My head hurts…”
He paused, swallowed hard, his eyes showing childish bewilderment and lingering fear.
Devout.
“It’s like…I saw…some indescribable visions? Like a divine kingdom? Or a burning cluster of stars? There was a voice…majestic…”
Before he finished, Allen suddenly grabbed Bernard’s hand tightly, his fingertips white with pressure, his eyes sharply focused, carrying the shock of a “Revelation.”
“It said…I must repent! It gave me…a chance at rebirth!”
Perfect! Allen silently gave himself a thumbs-up—his acting skills maxed out, emotion progression full marks!
And the effect?
Bernard’s doubtful expression instantly transformed into a fanatic mixture of awe and joy!
He grabbed Allen’s hand harder, trembling with excitement: “God…God’s grace?! Yes! It must be so!”
Bernard’s voice shook as he blazed with a nearly pilgrim-like light in his eyes.
“My child! The Lord has heard my sinful prayers day and night! He has listened! He has given you a chance to be reborn! To break free from your…past illusions!”
The way he looked at Allen was like gazing upon a lost-and-found relic blessed by the divine.
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
What an exaggeration!
Could this really fool them?
His father’s religious devotion and desperate wish to save his son were the perfect cover!
Allen glanced sideways at Marian without moving a muscle.
Hearing phrases like “repentance,” “cleansing sins,” and “God’s grace,” and sensing Viscount Bernard’s fanatic religious fervor, Marian’s originally wary expression turned pale as death in an instant.
Her crimson eyes flooded with panic and terror like a rising tide, and her body subtly shook.
Marian’s reaction made Allen silently sigh; his last shred of hope was extinguished.
Looks like I really can’t save you…
Marian.
Once Marian’s cultist identity was exposed to the Church, what awaited her was a fate a hundred times worse than death—
In the deepest dungeon of the Judgement Court of Heresy, subjected to the most horrifying tortures and “cleansing.”
Marian, what will you do next?
Allen suddenly recalled the Church Line’s opening event, and a complicated plan gradually formed in his mind.
“All right! All right! Repentance! We start anew! Thank the Lord for His grace!”
Bernard excitedly babbled and suddenly shouted toward the door, “Butler! Jean!”
An elderly man with graying hair, dressed in impeccably starched black wool butler attire, appeared silently like a ghost.
His back was slightly hunched, his face kindly like a grandfather’s, but his eyes were sharp and clear.
Butler Jean Leclerc bowed silently, “Master, your orders?”
His gaze quickly swept over Allen, filled with concern and scrutiny.
“Tonight! Prepare a family feast! The best! To celebrate Allen’s rebirth! And bring out that bottle from the cellar…that bottle…”
Bernard waved his arms excitedly as if about to entertain a king.
The butler stepped forward and whispered into Bernard’s ear in a low voice tinged with undeniable worry: “Master, that bottle of the finest Southland Champagne…was one of the items you pledged to Madam Mornay last month to secure an emergency loan…Also,” he lowered his voice further, “due to unpaid wages, Chef Robert is still on strike. He said…unless the debt is settled, he refuses to step into the kitchen.”
A trace of embarrassment and heartache flickered across Bernard’s face, his rising spirits deflating visibly like a punctured balloon.
He instinctively glanced at his son on the bed, “bathed in divine grace and awaiting rebirth.”
Sensing his father’s gaze, Allen lowered his eyes just in time, his long lashes casting shadows over his pale face, looking fragile and innocent.
My son…he’s so pitiful…
Viscount Bernard took a deep breath, as if making a resolute, all-or-nothing decision, straightened up again with a tragic heroic air of “well, if we starve tomorrow, so be it,” and waved his hand:
“No matter what! At least…at least tonight! Let my son have a good meal! Do it! Tell Robert, the money… the money will be made good! Immediately! Now! Allen needs to celebrate his rebirth!”
He practically shouted, as if raising his voice could disperse the dark clouds of bankruptcy.
Butler Jean sighed silently, a hint of helplessness flashing in his eyes, but still bowed respectfully: “Yes, Master.”
Then his gaze swept past the pale Marian, reminding: “Head Maid, come with me; we’ll need extra hands to prepare the feast.”
Marian snapped out of her daze, stiffly followed the butler out, her steps unsteady, head lowered, no longer daring to look toward the bed.
Only the father and son remained in the room.
Bernard, weighed down by the earlier embarrassment and the heavy reality of their finances, looked a little embarrassed.
He patted Allen’s shoulder and forced a smile: “Rest well, my child. Tonight we’ll celebrate properly.”
He turned, apparently eager to escape and deal with the mess.
“Father.”
Allen’s voice came from behind, calm but carrying a power that could steel the heart.
Bernard stopped in his tracks and looked back.
“What is it, my dear son?”
Allen’s gaze was piercing, deep with the profound suspicion accumulated through multiple cycles.
The world’s malice was ever-present; besides his similarly fated father, he trusted no one.
He looked straight at his father and said in a nearly cold, script-analyst tone: “Wait a moment. Before the celebration…there’s something I must confess to you.”
Bernard felt a sudden tightness in his chest at his son’s unusually serious, almost pitying eyes, but still forced a smile: “Oh, my dear son, say whatever you want! Your old man here…”
He meant to promise grandly but thinking of his empty wallet, his confidence instantly deflated.
Allen interrupted him, enunciating each word with crystal clarity:
“I have no requests. I just want to tell you that if we don’t do something…tonight or tomorrow night, or very soon, both you and I…will die.”