Hale turned to the newcomer. The girl stood a head shorter than Siman—yet undeniably beautiful.

Her hair matched her rose-hued dress and ribbon; even her eyes held a rare rose-gold gleam. Such an all-rose ensemble would’ve looked gaudy on most girls.

But on her? Utterly romantic. Her milk-pale skin glowed softly beneath that tender shade, impossibly alluring.

She seemed born for rose.

Hale knew her well: the “Rose of Saint Louis.” Letitia Childe.

Head of House Childe—the Papal Dominion’s wealthiest merchant family—and Duchess by title.

Rumors claimed her house controlled one-seventh of the Western Continent’s wealth. With a flick of her wrist, she could cripple any nation’s economy… save the Papal Dominion itself. “Wealth that rivals nations” was coined for her.

Yet she was only seventeen. Her flawless, delicate face still held a youthful innocence women thrice her age would envy.

Truth be told, Letitia wasn’t cut out to lead. She inherited the role solely as old Lord Childe’s only daughter.

In the game, she was one of the starter heroines—and the easiest route to clear.

Why? She began with a squad of female knights secretly guarding her. Whenever a bad ending loomed, they’d swoop in.

Players who disliked Hale and preferred casual play often chose her path. Avoid the devil-level boss? Trouble rarely came.

Still, Hale made cameos in her route.

Game text usually read: *“You encounter Hale at [Location].”* Prompt: *“Greet him?”*

*Why the hell greet him?* players scoffed. *She’s got a built-in cheat—why need Hale?*

Yet some did greet him. Sometimes, Letitia’s level would skyrocket.

Trigger that event, then recruit Hale and use him to recharge with other heroines? Hale got killed.

Worse: greeting her could instantly summon the knights. They’d slay Hale on the spot.

Their report? *“Hale intended misconduct toward Duchess Letitia. Eliminated.”*

So today, spotting Letitia at the Black Knights Order gate sent panic clawing up Hale’s spine.

If she greeted him… the knights might already be drawing blades.

This wasn’t paranoia. Whispers echoed through House Childe: the young mistress showed *too much* interest in House Faxius’s second son. Some muttered Hale would be better off dead.

After all, winning Letitia meant claiming House Childe’s fortune. Her late father had cleared every obstacle for his rose-heiress.

All she needed was peace—glancing yearly at absurdly massive ledgers.

Like how she attended school just one day a month… yet tutors stamped every subject [A+].

Few knew Letitia disliked school. She craved quiet. But the moment she stepped on campus, crowds swarmed.

Ever since age six—after her mother’s passing, when servants brought her from Ailan Kingdom’s countryside to House Childe—life felt distant from her memories.

Until four years ago. Harassed beyond patience, she fled deep into the middle school’s vast hillside garden… and saw Hale.

A black-haired boy sat alone by the pond, reading. Letitia had rarely seen such hair. Never such stillness.

Boys her age always flocked to her.

He merely glanced up—calm, indifferent—then returned to his book. No words.

From start to finish, until he left, Hale never looked at her again.

Letitia’s gaze, however, followed his retreating back.

He radiated a maturity she couldn’t resist. Within that slender frame dwelled a soul too old for his years—making her heart race.

She wondered his name. Why read an ancient book wrapped in plain leather, cover hidden?

“Duchess Letitia,” Hale asked carefully, “what brings you here?”

*Why’s she talking to me?*

Timeline-wise, this meeting shouldn’t happen yet.

But since she’d spoken, he had to deflect—*fast*.

Unlike with Christine, he couldn’t act repulsively. One hint of rudeness? The lurking knights might make him *permanently* repulsive.

In-game, searching her manor revealed a note: *“If Hall Fasius weren’t a general’s son, his corpse would sink in the Fayue River by dawn.”*

*What grudge is this?*

“…”

Letitia hesitated. She’d come to the Black Knights Order *specifically* to “run into” Hale. Her family disapproved; his reputation was tarnished.

So the Rose of Saint Louis devised a plan: sponsor the Order, claiming she’d recruit future talents for House Childe.

The Curia refused at first—calling the Order a key Papal Dominion project. But Letitia’s offer was too generous.

House Childe elders raised no objections. The Order *did* gather gifted common-born youths. Easy future recruits.

If they knew their princess spent a fortune just to engineer this meeting? They’d have strokes.

Yet if Letitia insisted, their protests meant nothing. The butler—loyal only to her, not the elders—held true power.

Seeing her silence, Hale’s pulse spiked.

*Not another disaster…*

Last time, being randomly branded a “Western Continent traitor” was absurd enough.

Then Letitia spoke, after a long pause:

“Hale… do you remember our first meeting? What book were you reading?”

*We met before?*

*While I was reading?*

Hale strained his mind. A dull ache throbbed—but nothing surfaced.

For safety’s sake, distance was vital.

“Duchess Letitia,” he asked evenly, “have we met?”

At the stiff honorific, sadness flickered across her face.

*Either he has amnesia.*

*Or he’s ignoring me again.*

*Or… he really is the player rumors say—pretending not to know me.*

If she could… this rose heiress wished to believe the first.