"Why do you think you're unworthy of the Hero?" The question slipped out before I could stop myself.

Hearing the Princess and the Hero mentioned together... for some reason, it felt oddly comforting. Maybe I just didn’t want such a cute Princess ruined by that shut-in loser.

*This amazing Princess would be perfect kidnapped to the Dark Lord’s castle as my bride!* Suddenly, my inner fujoshi spirit flared up like wildfire! Wait—no! I’m still a guy! Even as a loli, I deserve pure, untainted love!

"You seem to be thinking something terribly rude," she said, dodging my question entirely. "Don’t get carried away."

*Scary intuition!* Cold sweat broke out on my back. It was terrifying—like she could read minds.

"Well... honestly, when I’m with the Hero, it feels like we’re from different worlds. Just like with you." Her brow furrowed with worry. "His habits, his way of thinking—it’s all so different. Not like uncivilized border tribes, but... some of his ideas leave me in awe." My heart skipped. *She sensed that? This Princess isn’t ordinary.*

She sighed deeply. "Father once wanted to betroth me to the Hero. But I refused. I’m not worthy. He’s brilliant—knows everything from stars to soil. He’s powerful—he defeated the Dark Lord. He’s brave—he tries anything. And me? I only read fairy tales. I can’t help govern the kingdom. I don’t understand half of what he says. I have no magic, no Battle Aura... just weak, needing protection..."

*Hold up!* In your head, the Hero’s some flawless saint?! He’s just a shut-in loser raised on Mainland China’s elite education system—with a ridiculous protagonist aura! That’s all!

"You seem close to the Hero. This is his hat, isn’t it? I’ve seen him wear it." She reached for my hat. I slapped my hand over it, stopping her—*oops*, my reaction startled her.

"Actually..." I stammered, trying to calm her, "I borrowed it from the Hero. Just for fun. Shamelessly."

"How lucky," she murmured, unfazed by my rudeness. "The Hero’s so kind..."

*Damn it.* A girl this wonderful pining for him? My chest burned with jealousy. If she gathered courage to confess, Lott—that blushing pushover—would never refuse! Then they’d marry, consummate... *Too dangerous!* Gotta change the subject. Now.

"What’s the Hero’s real name? It’s weird—no one ever mentions it." She drifted into daydreams again. I nearly choked on my frustration. *Is "Hero" that mesmerizing?! Why does he get secret harems while I get nothing?!*

Jealousy~

Resentment~

"Lott Mordred." I swallowed my bitterness—and drool.

"Oh..." She stared at her twiddling fingers. "You already knew. Does that make me... a useless First Princess?"

*Don’t blame yourself!* Now *I* felt guilty!

"Actually..." I recalled Lott’s cringey excitement when announcing his name. Rubbing my temples, I tried comforting her: "He’s always hoping someone will ask his name. But everyone just calls him ‘Hero’... like it’s his actual name."

*Zero effect.* Fine. Topic shift: "Say... do you dream of a world where everyone’s equal? Where no one starves, freezes, or dies sick?"

"Hmm?" She pondered. "You mean... heaven?"

To them, that *was* heaven. A perfect, unreachable utopia.

Because it only existed in fairy tales.

"What if the mortal world could be like heaven?" I hinted, narrowing my eyes.

"Impossible..." She shook her head, then lifted her gaze to the ceiling as if stargazing. "If anyone could do it... it’d be *her*. The one from the Great Prophecy."

"Great Prophecy?" First I’d heard of it.

"Five hundred years ago, the Church’s greatest Pope sacrificed two hundred years of his remaining lifespan to make three prophecies. First: the royal bloodline must never break. Second: the birthplace of the Fourteenth Dark Lord. Third: a white-haired maiden will reshape the world with her power."

I followed her gaze to a painting on the wall. It resembled the one in Lott’s room—but not quite.

A white-haired girl glowed with sacred purity under the artist’s brush. Her gentle face held clear eyes and boundless compassion. Unlike Lott’s version, olive branches crowned her hair, and she cradled a vibrant flower wreath.

But what gripped me was the background: a circular disk divided into sections. Each held a girl’s face—smiling, weeping, smiling again—like an endless cycle.

*I knew that symbol.* Too well. I fiddled with tarot cards when bored. It was the Wheel of Fortune.

A major arcana card... yet its meaning felt frustratingly hazy.

*Does transmigration cause memory loss? Meow.*

"If only I were more useful... I could help more people." Her whisper pulled me back.

"About that painting," I cut through her gloom. "The background—what does it mean?"

"Oh..." She hesitated.

"Don’t say if it’s secret." *Definitely special.*

"It’s nothing." After several pauses, she confessed: "After I was born, Father had seers prophesy my future. But it was all blurry... except this symbol. So he had it painted here." She glanced around guiltily, like a scolded child. "He told me never to tell... but I trust you. Promise you’ll keep it secret?"

*Princess!* If it’s secret, *don’t tell me!* Now I’m guilty by association!

*So naive.* If she weren’t trapped in this tangled royal life... she’d be truly happy.

"Actually," I said slowly, "I have a wild theory. Should I share it?"