I think this might be the first time I’ve ever wanted to look good for someone.
While waiting for a message from Kenneth, Frennila, who had been anxiously staying at her quarters, suddenly grabbed Latia and asked her about makeup.
“Latia, how do you do makeup? I… I want to learn.”
“You’ve never shown any interest before — oh my, has a gentle breeze finally blown your way? How romantic~”
“It’s not like that! I… I just suddenly got curious, that’s all! Ugh, I shouldn’t have told you. Stop teasing me!”
Latia took the rare chance to tease her lady.
How adorable.
Anyone could tell she was thinking about the third prince.
Normally, Frennila was completely indifferent — even oblivious — when it came to matters of romance, so seeing her like this was a rare and precious sight.
Watching her fidget and flush red made her even more endearing.
Taking advantage of the moment, Latia seated Frennila in front of a chair and started working on her hair.
Even without much care, her long, silky hair flowed like the finest silk.
After smoothing her hair and lightly adjusting the shine on her face, Latia noticed her skin was already glowing — and she hadn’t even applied anything yet.
Her flawless, porcelain skin didn’t need heavy makeup.
A little foundation and a touch of blush would more than suffice.
If Frennila started taking care of her appearance properly, even those arrogant nobles who mocked her as a “barbarian” would be left speechless.
In that sense, Latia felt the third prince had good taste — unlike the others, he had recognized her lady’s true worth from the start.
“All done, my lady.”
With natural beauty like hers, even a little effort went a long way.
As Latia handed her the mirror, Frennila’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
Honestly, she should’ve let Latia teach her sooner.
But people only tend to learn things when they feel the need.
“A message from Prince Kenneth. He’s just finished his duties and says you’re welcome at the third prince’s palace anytime.”
“I’ll go right away!”
Maybe it was the makeup boosting her confidence — Frennila hurriedly left for the palace.
Latia watched her go with a fond smile and quickly followed behind her.
*
Knock, knock.
“Your Highness, it’s Yuria. Lady Frennila of the Bow Tribe is here to see you.”
“Please, show her in.”
Though we’d seen each other a couple of times earlier, this was the first time we’d meet one-on-one.
Despite trying to mentally prepare myself, the trembling just wouldn’t stop.
As if completely unaware of my inner turmoil, the door opened — and beyond it stood Frennila, offering a polite evening greeting.
“Good evening, Your Highness.”
“Ah, F-Frennila, g-good evening. Please, come in.”
The contrast was baffling.
This was the same woman who had once walked fearlessly across battlefields like a predator — but now she entered the room with delicate, quick steps, taking a seat across from me.
It was hard to reconcile the two images in my mind, and the confusion only made my head spin more.
“Thank you for helping me, Your Highness. Without you… things would’ve been much harder.”
Sitting with her legs neatly together and nervously fidgeting with her hands, she was the one to speak first, expressing her gratitude.
But she didn’t need to thank me —
I was just doing what I had to in order to survive.
“Ah, i-it was nothing. P-please, think nothing of it.”
My trembling body, beyond my control, started mimicking the distinct speech pattern of her tribe.
The sound of her voice seemed to accelerate my physical reaction, triggering the trauma I hadn’t yet overcome.
I once saw a documentary about tigers on TV in my past life.
It explained how prey animals freeze in fear when they hear a tiger’s roar — because it contains infrasound waves that cause paralysis.
…Could it be?
An absurd but suddenly plausible thought struck me — what if the sound of Frennila’s voice emitted some kind of infrasound?
But regardless of my fear, there were things I needed to address.
First, the events from earlier at the palace needed to be sorted out.
She must’ve been confused, after all — having someone she’d just met suddenly drop a confession like that out of nowhere.
If she looked at me with disgust or asked me what my deal was… well, I was used to handling rejection.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Wait… why am I already tearing up?
“Ah, a-about what happened earlier at the palace—”
“I-I like you!!!”
Before I could even explain myself, she blurted out her confession — voice cracking mid-sentence in an adorable squeak.
For a moment, my mind went completely blank.
I hadn’t expected her to come at me directly.
Stunned into silence, I couldn’t even begin to figure out how to respond.
The awkward silence stretched on — until she, flustered by her own outburst, hurried to explain.
“A-actually… I’ve been thinking a lot too. I know my homeland comes first… but still, I… I think I like you. And I… I want to get to know you better. So, what I want to say is… Erestea Revenia.”
Her voice softened as she said those last words — spoken in her native tongue.
‘Erestea’ meant confession.
‘Revenia’ meant acceptance.
Together, they meant —
‘I accept your confession.’
…What was this overwhelming feeling of being completely cornered?
Though my face forced a smile, it definitely wasn’t one of joy.
What was I supposed to do?
Should I tell her the truth?
Should I just come clean and say: “That was a lie. I just needed an excuse to get involved with you, so I blurted it out on impulse.”
But then… wouldn’t her response be something like:
“…Die.”
Or maybe, if she were feeling more elegant or merciful, she’d word it more gracefully — but the sentiment would remain the same.
And even if she didn’t react violently, she’d surely demand to know why I was trying to get involved with her and what my true intentions were.
I didn’t think my heart could survive that conversation.
I chose to avoid reality.
Well, for now, isn’t this fine?
Yeah, let’s just deal with the immediate situation and leave the rest for the future me to handle.
That’s his problem.
Wearing an expression like a raccoon who pretends to have seen the wisdom of the world, I could only resign myself to reality and say, “I’m glad,” in response to Frennila’s words.
An awkward silence fell between the transcendent me and Frennila, who was blushing in embarrassment.
Please, someone save me.
Just as I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, the door burst open.
“Your Highness, I’ve finished organizing everything you asked for— oh? My apologies, I didn’t realize we had a guest already.”
Kyle.
A savior appeared.
Normally, I’d scold him for not knocking, but this time I wanted to praise him.
Humans really are such fickle creatures — the way we evaluate someone changes so easily depending on the situation.
With the arrival of this sociable rescuer, the awkward atmosphere lightened considerably.
“Man, I was so surprised! I mean, you just went and confessed in front of His Majesty out of nowhere. That’s what being a real man is all about! Not like those stuck-up knights always strutting around, acting like they’re better than everyone else.”
That’s enough.
Lightening the mood is great, but let’s not dwell on that topic any longer.
With a sharp cough, I reclaimed control of the conversation.
Right now, what I needed was information.
Before helping her, I had to learn as much as I could about the situation in the North.
“Lady Frennila, could you explain exactly what happened in the North and the specific symptoms of the disease?”
“Alright, I’ll tell you everything that’s happened so far.”
…
*
‘Something felt… off.’
As I listened to her describe the symptoms of the disease, an overwhelming sense of unease settled over me.
Does it spread through bites?
Infected individuals quickly lose their sanity and turn aggressive, attacking those around them?
They can only be killed by destroying the heart or completely severing the head?
…This is totally zombies.
And the Northern Great Plains are vast — no, “vast” doesn’t even cover it.
They’re unimaginably wide.
The Empire never fully advanced into those lands because they were mostly frozen wastelands, but in terms of sheer size, the plains rivaled the Empire itself.
But despite their size, the population density was low, and the nomadic tribes frequently moved from place to place.
So how is it that, across such a massive expanse of land, hordes of insane, infected people kept targeting the Bow Tribe’s settlements with pinpoint accuracy?
That can’t be a coincidence.
Someone must be directing them.
And the biggest clue was the strange sight Frennila had witnessed — figures walking freely among the infected, untouched and unharmed, as if they existed in a separate world.
This stinks.
In most zombie stories, the classic origin is usually some kind of virus — often leaked intentionally or by accident from a lab.
The bite-based transmission also suggests a unique kind of infection, one that typically requires an initial host for the spread to begin.
Which means the possibility of this virus occurring naturally is extremely low.
And most importantly, there’s one fact that only I, someone who has returned from the future, know — this world is fundamentally based on a game.
There’s a mastermind deliberately spreading this disease.
As that conclusion settled in my mind, it felt like the fog finally began to lift.
Strangely enough, memories of my final moments before my regression started to surface and piece themselves together.
No way… Could it really be?
The more I thought about it, the more the identity of the mastermind became clear.
“You monsters hiding behind human faces — it’s better if you surrender now. Otherwise, we’ll repay the pain you inflicted on us, tenfold.”
“You brought this on yourselves. Don’t blame us.”
“You’ve sinned against us until the very end. Now it’s time for you to face the punishment.”
…Come on, how much clearer could the signs be?
All the arrows were pointing directly at the Empire.