“Strange… am I really suspected of being a Western spy?”

Night had fallen.

Hale walked down the brightly lit streets of Saint Louis.

That afternoon, when he reported to the Black Knights Order, he hadn’t been allowed inside.

Someone came out, politely explaining his file was under review and asked him to return in a few days.

Still, the core truth remained—he was under suspicion.

In this state, unless he cleared his name, slipping out of Saint Louis was impossible.

“Where did things go wrong?”

Hale mentally replayed the game’s plot.

So far, he’d met Letitia, Christine, and Siman.

Among the three heroines, Christine’s route unfolded earliest in the timeline.

From his past player perspective, Letitia’s behavior today felt oddly confusing.

Siman’s disdain, at least, stayed consistent.

If they suspected him of being a Western spy just for his Eastern looks…

Then on the Xia Kingdom route, he wouldn’t have survived past the opening.

The Great Xia Princess route only triggered after she signed a marriage pact with a Western noble and eloped.

No news had ever surfaced of any young lord marrying the Great Xia Princess—an event that would’ve shaken the political sphere.

And on that route, Hale was destined to die shortly after meeting her.

“Do I still have a shot at turning this around?”

He shook his head. No use dwelling.

His forced deaths mostly stemmed from the heroines’ actions anyway.

Plus, world war would erupt within three years.

Wouldn’t grinding swordsmanship early beat obsessing over vague worries?

…

“Young Master, you’re back! How was your meeting with Miss Christine?”

“Not great.”

Back at the manor, Hale spotted Lofu still in that same subtly revealing maid outfit from earlier.

*She’s easy on the eyes. Refreshingly so.*

“Oh, don’t worry, Young Master! Miss Christine just doesn’t know what’s good for her. With your charm, how could anyone not adore you?”

Hearing “not great,” a tiny flicker of joy sparked in Lofu’s heart.

*So no woman besides me truly cares for him yet…*

But how could they understand?

The Young Master never casually flirted.

He simply had no “crime time.”

In middle school, he’d rush home after class—sometimes honing swordsmanship alone, sometimes reading obscure texts in the pavilion, texts Lofu recognized as seminary-level ancient scripture.

Seminary studies were elite everywhere.

The most competitive path imaginable—even top students fought fiercely for admission.

Graduating with honors meant starting as a priest, possibly mentored by an archbishop, securing a smooth Church career.

Church influence topped the Papal Dominion; elsewhere, its benefits rivaled royal service.

But royal posts were scarce. Nobles’ children barely filled them.

Hence, Church roles grew fiercer, seminary scores soaring far above other schools.

Lofu could’ve attended—Sanctum University aside, House Faxius connections would’ve secured any Saint Louis academy.

Yet when Hale suggested it, she refused. Caring for him was enough.

Daily, she refined caregiving, cooking, flower arranging, tea ceremony, and studied fashion magazines to master noble-style dressing.

Just wearing them for Hale brought quiet joy.

(Though she’d also picked up odd bits from skimming forbidden arts on the market.)

“Don’t tease me. My reputation’s known across all Saint Louis.”

Hale relaxed around Lofu.

She wasn’t a main heroine. Even if something happened… probably fine.

Still, stay vigilant. Save indulging in soft thighs and gentle curves for *after* slipping out of Saint Louis.

“No, Young Master. What do *they* know?”

Lofu held the silver tray beneath her chest, angling it up slightly—her shapely bosom pressed just enough to draw the eye.

“Lofu… have I ever done anything to you?”

Puzzling. By character design, she shouldn’t have escaped his “clutches.”

Yet memory held zero “substantial activities” with her.

“No… Young Master never liked my figure.”

Unconcealed, she had curves; in daily wear, less so.

Two years younger than Hale, childhood malnutrition left her underdeveloped.

A trace of dejection colored her voice.

“Then what did I usually do after returning?”

“Huh?”

Lofu blinked, confused—but trusted him utterly.

“You practiced swordsmanship or read. Whenever I asked, you’d say you were preparing something… a secret.”

He’d always been mysterious, so she stopped prying.

Until the year his reputation shattered…

He grew less diligent with training and books.

But Lofu found it normal. A noble youth secretly striving without showboating? *That* was the odd part.

Hale fell silent.

This steady, proactive personality… oddly familiar.

Not boasting—but it mirrored his own.

Back when grinding tough games, he never rushed, yet never cut deadlines close.

“Young Master… you’ve seemed off lately. Is it because the investigator called you a spy for the Xia Kingdom?”

“Partly.”

“No need to worry. Once the Master returns to Saint Louis, those clowns won’t dare stir trouble.”

Right. He still had a general for a father.

…

That night, within House Childe’s manor.

Pale moonlight seeped through the gauze window.

On the grand princess bed, Letitia slept in a rose chiffon gown, hugging a near-life-sized pillow.

Her long, porcelain legs tangled tightly around it.

A faint damp patch peeked between the folds.

She murmured in her sleep, soft coquettish sighs wavering between discomfort and delight.

And through it all, only one name surfaced clearly:

“Hale…”