June 25th, early morning, Laval House
The morning sunlight streamed lazily through the stained glass windows, casting a gentle glow along the quiet corridors of the Laval estate.
Marianne, with faint dark circles under her eyes, moved like a sleepwalking cat as she tiptoed toward Young Master Allen’s bedroom.
After being forced to cram management knowledge for most of the previous night by the young master, Marianne felt as if Allen’s words had completely filled her mind; she was so light-headed that even walking felt like floating.
She habitually pushed open the door, ready to wake the notorious late riser with a “gentle” approach.
However, the scene beyond the door immediately sobered half of her drowsiness.
Allen was already fully dressed, his hair still slightly damp with a fresh dewy sheen, sitting idly by the window flipping through the 《Holy Scripture》 he had borrowed from the Judgement Court.
The morning light outlined his sharp profile, making him look spirited and vibrant—like the bright sun at seven or eight in the morning.
“Awake already, Marianne?” Allen looked up at the sound and smiled brightly. “Thanks for your hard work last night. I finished the morning exercise alone today, so you don’t get too exhausted.”
He waved the 《Holy Scripture》 in his hand, delivering a devilish line in a calm tone:
“Come on, before we meet that big shot, you need to cram some more religious knowledge, especially about Saint Elliott’s deeds.”
An indescribable wave of grievance surged in Marianne’s heart.
Even as a maid with a naturally yandere streak, facing this endlessly energetic, overachieving villainous young master was a bit much for her to handle.
Leaning against the doorframe, her eyes glowing red, she fixed Allen with a hoarse, half-asleep, half-accusatory voice: “Young Master… you practically wore me out all night. I still haven’t recovered from last night’s… passion.”
She deliberately emphasized the word “passion,” lacing it with an ambiguous warmth.
“And then, as soon as I open my eyes, you want to keep tormenting me. Your energy is so boundless—it really worries me that my little body won’t be able to keep up.”
Allen’s mouth twitched, a vein throbbing at his temple.
Why did his maid have absolutely no restraint as the yuri protagonist?
She even managed to make the founding of the Dawn’s Children Brotherhood sound so tender—it was downright slandering his reputation!
A yuri heroine was supposed to be pure enough to believe that kissing leads to babies, not someone spouting all these dirty jokes!
Allen resolved then and there: next, he’d give Marianne a thousand hours of pure, Allen-style puritanical yuri education!
“This is just the beginning,” Allen tried to put on a serious face and steer the conversation back on track. “Last night, I only gave you a brief overview of management! To properly run something as massive as the Dawn’s Children, that knowledge isn’t even an appetizer!”
Marianne actually understood perfectly well, perhaps even faster than Allen anticipated.
That’s why she was even more aware—the core idea behind the young master’s intricate organizational structure was: “You all do the work, I just point the way!”
Sleep deprivation mixed with mental fatigue deepened her grievance.
“Young Master,” Marianne stepped closer, her gaze sharp, “you’re planning to be a hands-off manager, aren’t you? Intentionally dumping all the work on us?”
Allen’s thick skin was comparable to a city wall; he cleared his throat and seriously quoted a famous saying:
“You handle the rest! I have many things to do; I need to focus my energy on the military!”
Marianne: “”
She stared speechlessly at Allen for several seconds, then resigned with a sigh, stepping forward to carefully straighten the slightly crooked collar of his clothes.
Her touch was gentle, but her eyes showed genuine concern:
“You’re God’s Messenger, and I’m just an ordinary person. Sometimes, I really can’t keep up with your pace… Please, take care of yourself once in a while. Get a good sleep—don’t always push yourself so hard.”
Allen shook his head, his gaze fixed on the rising sun outside the window, his tone calm as if he had seen countless hardships: “Why bother sleeping long in life? You sleep forever after death!”
That was his true feeling.
Allen had already collapsed into sleep 999 times; for him, if it weren’t to meet humanity’s most basic sleep needs, he wouldn’t even want to sleep!
As the philosopher said, every day without dancing is a betrayal to life.
Looking at him, as if ready to work another five hundred years straight, Marianne was completely at a loss: “Sigh, I can’t argue with you.”
She turned her gaze to the faint morning light outside, the breeze carrying a fresh scent.
“So many earth-shattering things happened yesterday… yet this morning feels unexpectedly calm.”
“Indeed,” Allen looked out the window too, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “Beneath calm waters, powerful forces gather to change everything. Marianne, miracles don’t just happen suddenly; they come step by step. Only when we look back do we realize how far we’ve come.”
At this moment, Allen’s eyes were clear, his aura peaceful—completely unlike the revolutionary, bloodthirsty leader he had been the day before.
“Young Master…” Marianne’s voice lowered, tinged with nervousness, “do you think… meeting Archbishop Lucien today will go smoothly?”
Saint Elliott Cathedral was the heart of the Church! As a former heretic, the thought of entering such a sacred place made her uneasy.
What if that immensely powerful Archbishop discovered her true identity? Would it implicate the young master?
Seeing her unease, Allen smiled and ruffled her soft black hair, soothing her like a frightened little black cat:
“What’s there to worry about? With me here, no one will so much as touch a hair on your head. The future is bright, but the road is winding. Whether smooth or rough, we must keep moving forward—never stopping.”
Allen’s firm words were a comforting anchor.
Marianne couldn’t help but rest her head gently against Allen’s chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. Her voice muffled: “Young Master… I’m just a ‘lamp keeper,’ managing people, and I feel so much pressure and anxiety… afraid I won’t do well. But you… you carry the entire future of humanity on your shoulders… I can’t imagine how heavy that burden must be…”
Seeing Marianne’s rare vulnerability and dependence warmed Allen’s heart.
He patted her back gently: “That’s why I want to entrust things to you, to everyone willing to work hard together. One person’s strength is limited, but a united group’s power is limitless. When everyone becomes a community of shared destiny, that’s the key to humanity’s salvation.”
Allen spoke confidently, but inwardly thought: being a hands-off manager really is the best!
As the evil mastermind behind the scenes, his job was only to make the grand strategy.
How the people executed it was up to their endless wisdom.
He trusted the masses’ enthusiasm, initiative, and creativity more than anyone else!
Even if things went south… well, there’d be future generations to fix it!
While Allen wasn’t paying attention, Marianne rubbed softly against his chest like a little cat, her nose catching the fresh soap scent mixed with the faint warmth of sunlight from Allen’s body.
“Hehehe… Young Master… you smell… nice…”
“Hohoho… of course, I’m the greatest villain… Wait! Marianne, what are you doing?! Hands, where are they going?!”
Allen suddenly felt a tightening around his waist; Marianne’s hands had wrapped around him and were trying to sneak under his clothes!
“Wuwuwu… I’m so tired… Young Master, give me a reward…”
Marianne looked up, her red eyes shimmering with a touch of coquettishness.
“If you’re tired, just learn more knowledge! Knowledge is power!”
Allen flailed trying to pry her hands away, speaking with mock severity.
“Dummy young master! Learning only makes me more tired, okay!” Marianne grumbled, clearly dissatisfied.
Being taken advantage of by his own maid first thing in the morning nearly made Allen faint from anger!
This script was wrong! By rights, it should be the villainous young master teasing the maid—not the other way around!
But Allen honestly had no energy to care about soft, fragrant, tender beauties.
He loved abstract concepts, not specific people. That’s true boundless love! That’s a real villain!
He was definitely not afraid of women! Absolutely not!
……
“Young Master, sorry for the wait.”
As they arrived at the stables, old butler Jean Leclerc’s tired voice broke Allen’s thoughts.
The old butler had served two generations of the Laval family, helping build their noble foundation.
He understood every aspect of the Kingdom’s society and possessed practical knowledge and experience.
The Dawn’s Children Brotherhood needed to understand the status quo of each social class to truly connect with the masses.
Thus, Allen entrusted Jean Leclerc with the heavy task of training the first batch of “Sparks” in the Brotherhood.
Though the butler’s rich experience made this manageable, the sheer number of trainees was overwhelming.
To efficiently train dozens of people, Jean and Allen had drafted a training plan overnight.
For the butler, who was already over fifty, such intense late-night work was a serious strain.
Seeing the dark circles under Jean’s eyes, Allen sincerely thanked him: “Thank you for your hard work, Butler.”
“The old servant isn’t tired; you are,” Jean replied with a slight bow.
Looking at Allen’s vibrant energy, he thought to himself: The young master clearly slept later than I did last night. His stamina is monstrous…
What Jean didn’t know was that Allen’s sleep was short but deep. The moment he hit the bed, he discarded all thoughts of the Dawn’s Children or the new world’s grand plans.
To achieve greatness, one must let go, endure, and live carefree—without worrying about trivial matters.
Allen had been pierced through the heart once by Livia last week. Maybe his heart had already been punctured.
Even if he wanted to care about those “small things,” he probably couldn’t pretend to.
Watching the exhausted yet dutiful butler, Allen resolved to find ways to lighten his workload.
He thought about writing a book called 《Lorraine Kingdom Class Analysis》, which, once printed, could serve as training material for everyone! Yes, that would do!
“Young Master is so biased!”
Marianne glared sourly at Allen and Jean exchanging knowing looks.
Why was Allen so gentle with the butler but so pushy with her, stuffing knowledge down her throat?
Allen’s gaze fell on the butterfly hairpin still pinned in Marianne’s hair—the one he had given her yesterday.
His eyes softened: “Marianne, the future belongs to you. There’s a wide world where you can accomplish great things. That’s the best gift I can give you.”
Marianne pouted and muttered softly: “Forget the future and the world—I just want you to belong to me alone.”
“That won’t do,” Allen immediately switched to his solemn prophet mode, expression grave and dignified. “As God’s Messenger, I belong to all humanity! Privatization is not allowed on me!”
Yep, his acting today was flawless.
That would be his strategy when meeting Archbishop Lucien!
Allen waved his hand, ending the morning’s “heartwarming” moment.
“Let’s go. We’re setting off!”
On the carriage bound for Saint Elliott Cathedral, Allen continued explaining the stories of Saint Elliott from the 《Holy Scripture》 to Marianne.
Saint Elliott was a legendary saint recorded in the 《Holy Scripture》 who, in one cycle, led enslaved people to overthrow a tyrannical slave master—a brutal despot corrupted by the whisperings of the stars.
He was the patron saint of all the poor and oppressed; that was why the cathedral named after him was the centerpiece of the Lower City.
While telling the story, Allen’s mind raced with calculations—
Anna hadn’t returned yet, probably still writing yesterday’s report at the Inquisition.
Though he had persuaded Judge Victor to become a potential ally, relying on him to erase his “suspect” label was nearly impossible.
Victor only agreed because Allen sensed his anxiety and yearning.
That trick definitely wouldn’t work on Archbishop Lucien—the super sly old fox.
The unfathomable archbishop had probably been watching him from the start.
No matter what role Allen played, to Lucien, he was likely just a clumsy actor.
Hmm, quite a predicament.
How do you fool someone who’s already read the script?
Allen decided to think from Archbishop Lucien’s perspective.
If a suspicious person completely out of place appeared before you, how would you test them?
As a transmigrator, Allen’s knowledge, thinking, and values likely aligned with the Church’s inheritance of the previous civilization.
So, if Archbishop Lucien suddenly threw out some modern concepts or terms, Allen would slip up.
Then what?
Would the archbishop give Allen a chance to explain? Would the Inquisition flip the table right then?
Allen wasn’t Livia; he couldn’t expect to walk away unscathed after a broken alliance.
Suddenly, Allen had a good idea.
Since Archbishop Lucien would surely pretend to be clueless, Allen might as well play dumb too.
Even if he got exposed, so what?
Did he really understand? Or was he just pretending?
“Fish are not aware of the joy of water, if you are not a fish.”
The archbishop wasn’t him. Why would Lucien believe Allen truly understood rather than was faking it?
Today’s meeting was most likely just a routine test, no need to break ties.
Both could play dumb and peacefully coexist.
The Church was in chaos due to The Deletion, desperately needing a “God’s Messenger” to stabilize morale.
Lucien might view Allen’s anomaly as a potential “God’s Messenger.”
If Allen proved harmless, he might strike a deal with Lucien to genuinely act as the “God’s Messenger.”
Whether the “God’s Messenger” was real or fake didn’t matter—the title’s power to soothe was what counted.
Everyone gets what they need!
Allen looked forward to chatting with Archbishop Lucien.
In the original 《Starlit Romance》, Lucien was a staunch anti-Mark fanatic and played the big villain in multiple routes.
Players hated that old villain for always targeting the pure, kind, and beautiful protagonist Livia von Stern, who had done nothing wrong!
Even Allen initially thought Lucien was a stereotypical villain with irrational motives.
Why would he risk offending both the Royal family and the Nobles just to destroy Livia?
It made no sense for the Church!
In many routes, Lucien would face countless deadly ends—
Killed single-handedly by Livia, purged by pro-Mark factions within the Church, assassinated by heretics, and so forth.
Now, knowing the truth, Allen finally understood—the archbishop was the lone hero secretly protecting humanity!
No matter how betrayed or doomed, he never compromised.
Allen was a minor villain, Lucien a major one; their villainous alliance (?) could form an unholy league.
Allen felt he and the archbishop would definitely get along well!
……
“Young Master, Miss Marianne, we have arrived.”
The carriage slowed to a halt, and the butler’s voice interrupted Allen’s thoughts.
Allen took a deep breath, rubbed his face, and made himself look alert (even though he already was).
He opened the door, jumped down nimbly, then turned like a true gentleman, extending his hand to help Marianne down.
“All right, Marianne, cheer up—we’re going to…”
As Allen spoke, he looked up with a pilgrim’s reverence, preparing to behold the magnificent cathedral named after the saint who freed the slaves and served as the Kingdom’s Church headquarters.
But when the entire building came fully into view—
Allen de Laval, the villainous young master who had experienced 999 cycles of death and rebirth and seen it all, was instantly petrified!
This… what the hell is this a cathedral?!
Standing before him was nothing like the imagined ancient, heavy stone building adorned with reliefs and pointed spires reaching for the heavens.
Instead, it was a pure, dazzling white, with a surface so smooth it didn’t look like stone—more like a massive, polished bone or cold jade.
The entire structure was simplified to the extreme, composed only of sharp straight lines and geometric facets, without any curves or ornate carvings.
Most absurd were the “windows.” They weren’t stained glass at all but enormous, completely transparent crystals!
Sunlight passed through unhindered, refracting into dazzling, colorful halos that dazzled the eyes.
The roof was neither spire nor dome but a huge, perfect semicircular arch—a solidified rainbow bridge spanning the sky.
At its center was the Church’s emblem—a gear cradled by a wreath of wheat, lifting a burning star.
The emblem wasn’t carved but seemed formed from pure light, shimmering faintly golden in the sunlight.
The whole building was seamless—no bricks or tiles—filled with a cold, sacred, and timeless futuristic aura.
It looked like an interstellar sanctuary ripped straight out of a sci-fi movie, violently transplanted into this smoke-and-mud, dilapidated Lower City.
The style clashed so completely and unexpectedly!
The overwhelming visual impact caused Allen’s mind to crash for several seconds.
Then, a silent roar erupted from his soul, ringing so loudly it made his head buzz:
“Does your Church even rehearse? The style difference is absurd! Is this thing really reasonable here?!”