Chapter 18: Thoughts From a Different Angle

“Holy shit... the gods clash, and the mortals get wrecked?”

Muen was currently curled up in the corner of the room, looking pitiful, weak, helpless—and very, very sorry for himself.

He glanced down at the razor-thin gash in the wall just centimeters from where he sat, and a violent shiver racked his body.

Nope. Can’t stay here. Gotta move, or I won’t even know how I died.

While the two women continued their battle, Muen clung to the wall and slowly edged his way toward the door.

Thankfully, the assassin maid wasn’t targeting him, and clearly didn’t have the bandwidth to care about a wimp like him right now.

So Muen managed to reach the door without incident. All he had to do now was open it, and he’d be home free.

“Huh?”

He turned the doorknob. It didn’t budge.

“...Huh? Huh?!”

His face instantly drained of color.

Of course. That maid-assassin had come prepared.

No wonder she had the guts to attack the Empire’s Third Princess in the middle of the heavily guarded Campbell Ducal Estate!

“But that’s the weird part—this never happened in the original novel!”

Muen clutched his head in frustration, slowly sinking into a crouch as his brain kicked into overdrive.

No matter how hard he searched his memory, the conclusion remained the same:

This was definitely not in the original story!

“Why the hell is there suddenly an assassin here? What went wrong?”

“This is the goddamn Campbell estate! How the hell did an assassin sneak in without setting off a single alarm?”

“Unless...”

His thoughts flashed back to something the maid had said, and suddenly, a deeply unpleasant possibility surfaced in his mind.

“Could it be... that my orders gave the assassins the opening they needed?”

In the original timeline, the sickly maid Noelle never got to rest.

And the original Muen definitely didn’t issue any order to bring in extra help for the banquet.

But in this altered worldline, because of one small act of kindness, everything had changed.

The head maid, under Muen’s orders, had gone out late at night to recruit new hands for the banquet—and one of those new hires had become the estate’s only critical vulnerability today.

“This is insane. The hiring happened last night! That’s not enough time for anyone to prepare something this elaborate!”

He was sure the head maid understood the importance of trust and security, and had acted as quickly as possible precisely to avoid giving any external threat time to react.

And yet, somehow, the assassin had still made it in.

“Don’t tell me someone’s been monitoring the Campbell estate around the clock?”

No matter how hard Muen wracked his brain, that was the only conclusion that made any sense.

But all his speculation did nothing to help his current predicament.

He was still standing at the edge of a bad ending—one he’d brought on himself.

“For now... all I can do is wait and pray that Celicia defeats the assassin. A weakling like me is totally useless here.”

“...Wait. Hold on a second. Is Celicia winning... actually [N O V E L I G H T] the best-case scenario for me?”

“The assassin’s target is clearly Celicia!”

Muen’s eyes widened, a realization dawning on him amidst the chaos.

Yes.

If Celicia died right here...

Then everything that had just happened between them—

Would die with her.

No one would ever know.

...

While Muen spiraled deeper into his tangled inner conflict, the battlefield in front of him suddenly shifted.

The maid once again displayed the blinding speed she’d shown at the start, her figure blurring into a shadow as she dodged Celicia’s volley of ice spikes—each one as sharp as a blade.

The ice had blanketed every possible escape route beneath her. She should’ve had nowhere left to land, like prey falling into a trap lined with needles.

But when she reappeared, it was as if gravity no longer applied to her. She descended slowly, her feet landing lightly on the narrow tips of the ice spikes—balancing there alone, as graceful as a dancer performing on the edge of a blade.

“A footwork technique that enables explosive bursts of speed... and gravity magic?”

Celicia’s gaze darkened. The more clearly she discerned the maid’s techniques, the heavier her mood became.

“There were no signs of spellcasting. It must be bound to an artifact of some kind.”

“My, my. As expected of Her Highness Celicia.”

A flicker of eerie violet light flashed in the maid’s right eye.

“You saw through my tricks so quickly.”

“It’s you people who underestimated me.”

Celicia narrowed her icy eyes and gave a chilling smile.

“Did you really think a frontal assault would work on me? Do I look like some helpless pushover to you?”

“Oh no, Celicia Your Highness—we do take you quite seriously.”

The maid’s gaze dipped subtly over Celicia’s body, a strange smile playing at her lips.

“In fact, it’s precisely because we’re taking you seriously... that we chose this exact moment to strike.”

“After all—”

“Even you, Celicia Your Highness, are still a woman. And after experiencing something so intense for the first time... your stamina, or perhaps other capabilities, must be compromised.”

“You—!”

For the first time, Celicia lost her composure, her fury erupting in a rare display of emotion.

“Are you begging me to rip that filthy, rotten mouth of yours to shreds?!”

“Heh. As an assassin, I really shouldn’t be talking this much...”

The maid’s smile abruptly vanished. Her gaze turned hard and cold as steel.

“But sometimes, even assassins have to buy time.”

The moment her voice fell, a high-pitched whirring noise filled the air.

Then the entire room began to shake violently, like it was in the midst of an 8.0 earthquake.

From the walls, floor, and ceiling, golden runes began to emerge—squirming and pulsing like they were being squeezed out from within the structure itself.

Holy golden light burst forth from the runes, bathing the entire room.

“Hurry up. I can’t hold it much longer.”

Despite the soundproofing, a weak voice somehow filtered in from outside the room.

“Relax. It’ll be over soon.”

The maid raised her left hand.

In it was a vessel containing bright red liquid.

【Prayer】

The world suddenly fell silent, save for the solemn intonation of the maid’s voice.

Celicia’s eyes widened with shock. In the next moment, she summoned another barrage of ice spikes in furious retaliation—but the golden runes suppressed them, neutralizing the attack.

【With the blood drawn from one hundred innocent hearts, we offer this sacrifice to the God of Melted Worlds, Lord of Crimson Suns, Great King of Withering】

The maid crushed the vessel.

The blood—taken from the hearts of one hundred children—flowed out unnaturally, untouched by gravity, slithering and spiraling like a living serpent.

【We entreat thee】

【Grant unto us】

【The power to suppress the snow and storm】

Crack.

Crack—crack.

A vortex like a black hole began to materialize in the air, slowly unfurling from the void.

A terror beyond description leaked from its depths, making it hard to breathe.

A withered hand stretched out from the vortex.

Its fingers spread open, as if demanding something.

The maid bowed her head and offered the blood.

The hand withdrew, taking the blood with it.

From within the vortex came a slurping sound—joyful, almost gleeful—but enough to chill the soul.

Moments later, the withered hand emerged once more.

This time, it was ablaze with an eerie red flame.