Alan’s vision of the future flashed and vanished. The post-escape relief, like a soap bubble under the sun, burst with a soft pop under the crushing pressure of survival.
Alan was a villain destined to die; he had no time to catch his breath.
He jerked his head up and looked at the sky. At some point, large patches of lead-gray clouds had devoured the sunlight, pressing heavily over the city, turning the midday light as dim as twilight.
The air was stifling, thick with moisture. A storm was brewing.
Did the Inquisition Tribunal really give him freedom? No, this was just a game of cat and mouse, all a deeper test.
The fact that he had been dumped in the Civic Square of the Lower City by the Inquisition Tribunal said it all.
The Upper District and Lower City were informal names based on the urban planning of the Royal Capital Lucien.
The center of the Upper District was the royal palace, where the royal family and nobles lived with their servants.
The center of the Lower City was the Saint Eliot Cathedral, where migrant workers, citizens, merchants, and other non-privileged classes gathered.
The two districts were starkly divided; an invisible chasm split the Royal Capital into two worlds.
The Church had absolute control over the Lower City. Even the officials of the city hall located there were mostly backed by the Church.
Being dumped in the Civic Square, where the Church’s influence was deeply rooted, was a clear warning—’See, brat? Even if you wear the skin of a noble, you can’t escape the Inquisition Tribunal’s grasp!’
Alan looked around. Every passerby, every vendor hawking their wares, even the gray pigeon pecking at the cracks between the stone bricks, all seemed suspicious.
“Marianne,” Alan suddenly spoke, his voice carrying a deliberately crafted lightness, “let’s play a game.”
“Eh?” Marianne snapped out of her thoughts and looked at him in confusion.
Alan casually pointed around them. “Guess how many of these ‘friendly citizens’ are spies from the Inquisition Tribunal.”
Marianne paused, then seriously began to observe. Her years of struggling at the bottom of society quickly helped her spot the inconsistencies.
The ordinary citizens of the Royal Capital, though slightly better off than those in the countryside, always wore the fatigue and melancholy of making a living, dressed in faded old clothes.
But among the crowd, there were a few figures whose clothes were too decent, the fabric brand new, their movements deliberate, and their eyes constantly drifting toward them with a sense of ‘performance’ that clashed with the surroundings.
“Young Master,” Marianne whispered, subtly pointing at a man pretending to pick fruit at a stall, “that man’s clothes are as new as if he just bought them for a play. And that person leaning by the pillar over there—his eyes keep lingering on us.”
Alan nodded approvingly. “Good observation, Marianne. But there’s a simpler, more brutal way to identify them.”
He paused, his gaze locking onto the ‘passerby’ pretending to wait for someone in the distance.
A bright, almost provocative smile spread across his face. He even raised his hand and waved vigorously in that direction, mouthing silently: “Keep up the good work, bro!”
The ‘passerby’ visibly stiffened, his expression turning incredibly complicated—unable to leave, unable to stay, so embarrassed he wished he could disappear on the spot.
Alan lowered his hand with satisfaction and sneered. “See? Simple.”
“How did you find them out?” Marianne asked, puzzled.
“The answer is simple—they’re clean enough!” Alan’s smile turned cold.
“The kingdom has been plagued by plagues these past few years. And some ‘genius’ medic put out a bullshit theory that washing with hot water opens the pores, letting ‘poison air’ in, and that keeping a layer of grime on the body prevents disease! Absolutely preposterous!”
In the original Star Love Song, there was an outbreak of plague in the Royal Capital, so Alan was very aware of the kingdom’s current situation.
“That claim sounds very unreliable.”
“Exactly. After you became my maid, you’ve at least had some education. But the common folk actually believe that nonsense.”
“As a result, the public bathhouses in the Lower City have been going out of business one after another. There aren’t many left now. Such a pity…”
Alan’s regretful expression made Marianne’s heart sink. ‘Public bathhouses? I know those places well. Many desperate girls worked there as bathhouse girls; the reputation was not good.’
The Church had even repeatedly denounced the ‘mixed bathing’ of men and women as ‘corrupting public morals.’ Young Master… why did he suddenly bring that up? And in such a regretful tone?
Could it be… he also has such needs?’ A wave of inexplicable bitterness and intense possessiveness surged within her.
‘She was his personal maid! In noble circles, everyone knew what a personal maid meant! With her by his side, how could he… how could he think about those filthy places?!’
“Young Master… are you very interested in visiting a public bathhouse?” Marianne’s voice unconsciously turned cold.
“Indeed…” Alan, still lost in his lament over the decline in hygiene habits, instinctively replied.
“I’m quite curious about this era’s bathing culture… Ow! Ouch ouch ouch ouch!! Marianne, why are you pinching me?!” He snatched back his hand, revealing several clear nail marks on his wrist, wincing in pain.
“You stupid Young Master!” Marianne turned her head away, her cheeks flushed, but her eyes cut at him like a knife, silently conveying the dangerous message: ‘If you dare go, I’ll kill you.’
Alan rubbed his wrist, completely baffled and aggrieved. ‘What’s with this girl? Such a sudden reaction. Is her possessiveness really that strong? Wait… strong possessiveness?’
‘If I can redirect that possessiveness toward Livia, wouldn’t that be a perfect boost for winning over Livia?!’ Alan’s eyes lit up, and he immediately forgot the pain, feeling like he had discovered a new continent.
‘If Livia was tightly entangled by a yandere, she wouldn’t have time to trouble me! As expected of him! His plan was so perfect, he had even considered this!’
Alan was far-sighted, as if everything was under control. But he failed to realize that the one who would end up entangled by a real yandere wasn’t Livia—it was him.
“Ahem, anyway, the citizens are now afraid of the plague and don’t bathe much.” He quickly changed the subject, afraid of being pinched again.
“The Church people are different. They have ‘God’s guidance’ and know the importance of hygiene, so they bathe often. That’s the right way to prevent disease.”
“…Do you need me to bathe you in the future?” Marianne suddenly blurted out, her eyes dark and deep.
Alan: “???” ‘How did the topic circle back?!’ He quickly waved his hand. “Stop, stop! We’re talking about serious matters!”
Using Alan’s method, Marianne accurately pointed out a few more spies. Alan was very satisfied with this.
“See? That’s the importance of details. Marianne, you’ll have to learn this well. You might even need to learn disguise in the future.”
He meant to remind Marianne that when approaching Livia, a protagonist with a spotlight, she would need to learn how to move stealthily and avoid trouble from minor villains like him.
However, Marianne interpreted his words completely differently. ‘Disguise? Did she need to pretend to be someone else? In noble circles, the line between servant and spy was often blurred.’
‘Many spies disguised themselves as servants to get close to nobles, and servants occasionally moonlighted as spies for extra cash.’
‘Young Master is hinting that he needs me to do something covert for him? He needs my abilities. He needs my loyalty! Being needed by Young Master… being entrusted with such an important task…’ A wave of immense happiness overwhelmed Marianne, and her cheeks flushed.
Seeing Marianne suddenly blush, Alan was overjoyed. ‘See? You understand too! Disguise is crucial for winning over Livia!’ Master and maid were clearly on completely different wavelengths, yet both wore knowing smiles as if they understood each other perfectly.
It must be said that this world had an excellent matching mechanism. Alan and Marianne were fundamentally the same kind of people.
When Alan first realized the Inquisition Tribunal was watching him, there had been a lingering heaviness in his heart. But the more dangerous and desperate the situation, the fiercer the flame burned within him.
After experiencing the cycle of death last time, Alan finally realized that no matter how he tried to escape, this world would never let him off the hook.
Since he was destined to be a villain who must die, he might as well play the role of a villain to the end. The madness he had once buried deep in his heart burst forth again after learning the truth that the world was about to end.
Alan knew that if he let his madness run wild, he would destroy himself before the world did. But so what? Meet a demon, slay the demon.
Encounter a Buddha, kill the Buddha. That is the way of a villain. If God would not let him live, he would kill even God to see!
“Marianne, we have never actually been free.” Alan’s villainous smile grew brighter.
“We’ve just been thrown from one narrow cage into a bigger, more hopeless prison. In this prison, even death cannot bring release.” His gaze swept over the visible and hidden ‘eyes’ in the square, sharp as a blade.
“Some fools think they are the jailers, trying to control us prisoners.” Alan’s voice suddenly rose, carrying a long-suppressed, almost manic anger and defiance.
“But I will make them understand—it’s not that I, Alan de Laval, have been forced to be locked up with them! It’s that they! Have been forced! To be locked up in the same hell! With me!”
He spread his arms wide, as if to embrace the suffocating sky, or to declare war on an invisible enemy, his voice filled with desperate madness. “This world should fear me!”
This extremely chuunibyou declaration struck Marianne’s heart like a thunderbolt!
She looked at Alan’s slender yet incredibly upright figure silhouetted against the leaden sky, at the frenzied flame in his eyes that seemed ready to burn the entire world. An unprecedented, intense thrill and resonance surged through her.
“If you are going to take on the world…” Marianne’s voice was exceptionally firm, her crimson eyes gleaming with the same obsessive light, “I am willing to face it with you, to become your ally.”
Hearing this, Alan felt a warmth in his heart and almost wept with emotion. ‘What a good comrade! What a loyal battle companion!’ He patted Marianne on the shoulder, moved.
“Well said! But you don’t need to take on the world. Once you and Livia are together, a strong alliance, then the world will have to take a detour when it sees us!”
Marianne: “…” She looked at Alan’s relieved expression that said ‘I’m happy to be a supporting leaf for your happiness,’ and the confusion in her heart grew like vines.
‘Why is Young Master so fixated on setting me up with Livia? He’s never even met Livia, yet he knows everything about her? He even knows that Livia will be hostile to him!’
‘But Young Master and Livia are both essentially good people. Why would they become enemies? There must be a deeper meaning behind this!’
Thinking about how Alan had completely changed his personality after waking up, how he had predicted the Church’s attack, and his declaration to ‘make the world fear him,’ a bold, almost absurd idea lit up the chaos of Marianne’s mind like dawn breaking!
‘Divine revelation! Young Master had truly received a divine revelation! The former prodigal son who indulged in violence and pleasure had died.’
‘Now, standing before her was a messenger descended from the divine kingdom, bearing a sacred mission.’
‘The fire burning in his heart was not pointless madness, but an overwhelming rage against the fallen humanity! He intended to use fear as a whip to wake this degenerate world!’
‘And she, Marianne Durand, a sinner who had abandoned God, was forgiven by God, allowed to serve beside the messenger and bask in his glory… What grace! What honor!’
‘Young Master’s wish for her to be with Livia was actually a hint— He knew that Livia was a righteous person worth saving, but Livia was deceived by this fallen world and would eventually stand against Young Master.’
‘For that, he needed Marianne to assist Livia, to help her expose the world’s lies! Only then could Livia truly become Young Master’s ally! Livia… you too can have such happiness… How envious… and yet so happy.’
“Young Master,” Marianne said, her voice carrying the piety and fervor of a pilgrim, her eyes fixed on Alan, her crimson gaze shimmering with a twisted light, “I will fulfill your grand ambition. I will help you save Livia.”
Marianne’s sudden intensity caught Alan off guard. ‘Why does she seem more and more off? Oh well, as long as she’s happy…’ Alan shook his head and pushed aside his unease. As long as Marianne was willing to work hard to win over Livia, that was a good thing!
“Good! Very spirited!” Alan perked up, flashing his signature villainous confident smile again. “Let’s work hard together! Make it big! Make sure Livia falls for you!”
This time, the stone he had lifted didn’t seem to fall on his own foot. But he never dreamed that this stone was hurtling through the air toward that unsuspecting phoenix overlord heroine far away.
***
Meanwhile, in the Upper District of the Royal Capital, at the private training grounds of the Border Count’s mansion. Livia von Stern had just finished a set of sharp sword drills.
Sweat soaked a few strands of her platinum-blonde hair, plastering them to her smooth forehead, making her pale skin look even more like snow. She was breathing slightly, her full chest rising and falling.
Her slender yet powerful hand gripped the practice sword, its tip pointing diagonally at the ground. Suddenly, without warning, she shuddered. A chill ran up her spine, causing her to sneeze involuntarily.
‘Marianne?’ She murmured softly, confusion and an indescribable tremor flickering in her clear blue eyes. It felt as if an invisible thread had crossed space, linking her heart to something distant.
She furrowed her delicate brow and looked up at the sky. Above the training grounds, thick lead-gray clouds also hung low, oppressively stifling. The clouds rolled like the depths of a brewing storm.
“Alan de Laval…” Livia murmured the name softly, her gaze gradually sharpening and turning icy.
She slowly raised the practice sword; the blade reflected a cold gleam under the dim sky. The next moment, the sword light slashed down like a ribbon of light!
Crack!
A crisp sound—the sturdy wooden training dummy snapped clean in two, the cut smooth as a mirror. Livia sheathed her sword, her breathing steady.
Only a cold resolve churned in the depths of her deep blue eyes. ‘…We’ll meet soon.’ A cold gleam flashed in her eyes. It was as if the hands of the countdown to Alan de Laval’s death had silently been nudged forward one notch.