* * *

With a firm grip on Marchen’s shoulder, Jerome raised a single finger.

Feeling the sudden presence behind him, Marchen awkwardly turned around.

Pressing his finger against Marchen’s cheek, Jerome spoke playfully.

“Have you already forgotten the International Lover’s Pact? We agreed not to touch each other’s spouses, remember?”

The existence of an “International Lover’s Pact” was bizarre enough, but Jerome’s brazen introduction of me as his spouse was utterly bewildering.

Marchen, frozen and trembling with his cheek still pressed, looked as though he’d encountered a bear in the middle of a forest.

“Je-Jerome…”

Like before, Marchen let out a piercing shriek and promptly collapsed to the floor, one hand to his forehead, fainting dramatically.

I looked at him in disbelief.

“I knew he was a bit faint-hearted for his size, but fainting over something like this?”

“Jeanne, you shouldn’t let strangers into the house so easily.”

“But why does Marchen act like this every time he sees you?”

“Right? It’s a bit disappointing. He used to follow me everywhere. Men are all the same.”

Jerome muttered playfully.

Given his rare platinum hair and noble appearance, it seemed natural that Marchen would be enchanted.

Lost in thought, Jerome suddenly smiled faintly.

“Or perhaps it’s because of… that.”

The red veins in his right eye made the whites look bloodstained, giving his smile a menacing edge.

Marchen, lying on the floor, shuddered at Jerome’s ominous smile, the fear evident in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Jerome nonchalantly lifted my teacup to his lips, gesturing for Marchen to sit.

Slowly, Marchen rose and hesitantly took a seat across from him.

Jerome poured more milk tea for Marchen before sitting beside me.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How long has it been since we met at that fencing tournament hosted by the royal family?”

“Oh, that fencing tournament… the one where you were late because you were with a maid. Does Jeanne know about your reputation with women? I’d never seen Duke Michael’s face turn that red before.”

“Haha, it seems the story’s been twisted. I may have my quirks, but I’d never do something so reckless.”

Somehow, his sheepish smile brought me a sense of relief.

Knowing Jerome, he’d never do anything so foolish.

But Marchen, raising an eyebrow, pressed him further.

“Are you denying it?”

“Yes, that rumor is false.”

“….”

“But I am lying right now.”

This… is a liar’s paradox.

Jerome drank his tea, leaving Marchen and me looking at each other with strained expressions.

Marchen, though eccentric, seemed to struggle handling Jerome.

Setting down his teacup, Jerome commented thoughtfully.

“By the way, how’s Freya doing?”

“She’s fine, I suppose.”

Contrary to my expectation of a bloodbath, Marchen and Jerome seemed to be chatting amicably.

Jerome, once the head of a large guild, appeared to have a history with him.

Feeling more at ease, I quietly munched on a snack, suddenly interrupting.

“Freya?”

Crumbs fell onto my collar as I ate, and Marchen, watching me disapprovingly, covered his mouth with a handkerchief.

“How uncouth!”

“Jeanne, you should finish what’s in your mouth before speaking.”

These noble types are so uptight. It’s not like the world is going to end if I spill a few crumbs.

While Marchen looked horrified, Jerome calmly brushed the crumbs from my lips and spoke in a soft tone.

“Marchen has an older sister he’s known since childhood. Freya, the high priestess who guards the northern lands.”

“Ah, right. The northern hero who helped you defeat Mephisto.”

Jerome nodded.

Back when he led the charge against Mephisto, the imperial family assembled their strongest warriors, forming a kind of “Avengers.”

The high priestess Freya was one of the heroes who distinguished herself in that battle.

‘Damn, Freya…’

My head throbbed, and my vision blurred.

So focused on the immediate task, I hadn’t considered the aftermath.

The plot of the original story flickered through my mind.

---

“Aaaaagh!”

Parak’s monstrous roar, now twisted with fury, reverberated through the village square.

Citizens clutching their family members’ bodies wept and screamed in anguish.

Members of the Flare and Jupiter guilds struggled against the ice soldiers, but Parak showed no sign of retreat.

Dodging Parak’s relentless fists pounding the ground, Carlisle focused his aura on the tip of his sword.

A bright light, as radiant as the sun, gathered around it. Luke, panting heavily, bit his lower lip.

“This never ends. At this rate, we’ll all die together.”

Even with relentless attacks, it wasn’t enough.

The winter soldiers, sustained by Freya’s endless supply of divine power, would revive to attack the guild members again.

Then, he noticed Freya laughing gleefully from behind Parak.

“Of all people, Freya turned traitor?”

Freya, the High Priestess—once a hero of the North who had joined him in defeating Mephisto.

When Luke heard that she had turned traitor, he had desperately hoped that the demon hadn’t consumed her completely.

Clutching his injured arm, Luke shouted with a resonant voice.

“Why are you all doing this? Was Jerome not enough for you?”

Sensing Luke’s gaze, Freya turned her head leisurely.

Now overtaken by the demon, she seemed like a different person.

Tilting her head, she spoke, her crimson eyes glinting.

“Who knows? I merely encouraged it. This body became a heretic because this woman ultimately accepted me.”

Freya, covered in blood, caressed the ring on her finger.

A fleeting smile appeared on her otherwise expressionless face.

“This body… began to question the world it had protected for so long. When forced to protect a world that demanded losing one’s beloved, one’s nanny… perhaps it was better to let it vanish. And so, she accepted me with that resolve.”

“…”

“I didn’t turn Freya into a heretic. It was the weak ones who burdened a single girl with the fate of the world.”

Freya’s scornful words made Luke shudder.

It wasn’t only Freya who had felt this way; many heroes with great power questioned their purpose in protecting the weak.

Even someone as dutiful as Luke occasionally felt the same doubts.

“It’s fascinating how even the High Priestess is just an ordinary human in the face of love.”

Freya returned to her impassive expression and turned away.

Just as Luke tried to approach her retreating figure, another winter soldier blocked his path.

With Freya’s divine power constantly restoring their strength, it was clear the soldiers under Parak’s command wouldn’t fall.

“No attack is working. I need to think of a way… a way to defeat Parak.”

Luke’s green eyes fixed on the winter soldier, who raised its ice spear.

Suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind.

The weapon that Carlisle had gained after slaying the corrupted dragon Bermut—‘Maya’s Sword.’ Catching his breath, Luke shouted urgently.

“Sir Carlisle, use Maya’s Sword from the holy dragon! Only Maya’s Sword can cut through Parak now!”

Hearing Luke’s words, Carlisle gritted his teeth.

Amidst the pouring rain, he gripped his sword tightly, meeting Parak’s attack with his own.

Clang!

A dust cloud rose around Parak as Maya’s sword pierced his heart.

Freya, her face pale, muttered.

“How… how did you get Maya’s sword…?”

“Who knows.”

Carlisle’s gaze briefly landed on Luke, who quickly averted his eyes.

“Maybe I owe it to my loyal servant.”

Maya’s sword, piercing Parak’s heart, glowed with a blinding light.

---

[Comments Section]
User ‘AnywayTheMaleLeadIsCarlisle’: This is it, LOL. “When the extra servant doesn’t hide his power anymore.”
User ‘SacredINFJ’: Honestly, Luke’s basically raising Carlisle like in Princess Maker, LOL. I’d fall for him too.
User ‘HamLuke’: Really puts “that guy” who always whines to shame, huh. 😂
⤷ LOL, poor Jeanne watching TV at home, loses here.
⤷ ???: “How can I even win against this…”
⤷ Well, at least Carlisle is finally starting to take an interest in Luke… Luke deserves some love for all the time he’s been waiting.

---

Hiccup.

Jerome and Marchen looked at me with sympathetic expressions as I hiccuped and dropped a crumb.

Jerome patted my back.

“Jeanne, no need to rush. It’s all yours anyway.”

“Don’t be so rude!”

Marchen shrieked sharply. It seemed he had mistaken my surprise for a cough.

But my shock wasn’t because of a crumb; it was from the sudden appearance of the original story’s content.

‘Well, it’s around the time for Freya’s arc to start, isn’t it? The first heretic transformation begins with Parak, the guardian beast of the North. It was even mentioned at the last guild assembly. The main storyline was supposed to begin after the guild selection tournament, so I hadn’t expected it.’

That’s right.

In the original story, Carlisle slays the corrupted dragon Bermut and gains ‘Maya’s Sword.’

With that weapon, he purifies Parak, the North’s corrupted guardian.

However, during this ordeal, Freya, overtaken by the demon, throws herself off an icy cliff.

‘But since I’ve possessed this body, the story’s twisted. Bermut didn’t become a corrupted dragon, which means Carlisle never got Maya’s sword. So, who could possibly purify a corrupted guardian beast…?’

Suddenly, I remembered Maya’s bow, the weapon I had inherited from Bermut.

Only Maya’s weapons could purify a corrupted guardian.

Essentially, I had altered Maya’s sword into a bow.

“It’s me!”

* * *