“I’m not your enemy. I’m here to help you.” Grein waved his hand, his expression sincere.
“Are you following us?”
Running into them out here in the wilderness? No way it was just a coincidence, so the maid questioned him directly.
“I saw Her Highness at Golden Square, so out of curiosity and concern, I followed.”
“When I saw you being attacked, whether for personal feelings or moral reasons, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”
There was nothing obviously wrong with what Grein said, but for safety’s sake, the maid insisted Grein clean up the remaining attackers by himself.
Grein could understand her wariness, so he turned and joined the fight. To his surprise, the maid occasionally loosed a few arrows to finish off the wounded.
Grein’s appearance was a matter of necessity. Watching from the sidelines, he’d realized the maid’s approach was the safest—using little stamina, avoiding injury, but it was time-consuming.
But time was exactly what they needed to seize.
If things continued at her cautious pace, Dolores would never make it back to the royal capital before the Dragon Disaster struck, missing her chance entirely.
At the same time, Dolores herself would be in even greater danger. After all, when a dragon attacked, chaos would engulf everywhere outside the palace and even the surroundings of the royal capital—there would be nowhere safe.
With Grein joining the fight, the remaining attackers were dealt with in ten minutes. With his imposing physique and a sword over a meter long, facing these slow-moving attackers, it was almost a slaughter.
Their clumsy moves couldn’t dodge Grein’s sweeping blade; almost every strike cut them clean in half.
The maid bent down and casually lifted an attacker’s mask. The lifeless face had blue-tinged eyes.
Just as she suspected, these attackers had already died before coming after them—they were nothing but corpses under someone’s control.
In the next instant, the corpse whose mask she’d lifted moved its eyes, but the sharp-eyed maid instantly stabbed an arrow through them.
“The controller behind these puppets has noticed something’s wrong. Let’s hurry back to the capital. These audacious rats will pay for their actions.”
Grein glanced at the maid and shook his head in his heart at her words.
He feared that even after they returned, they wouldn’t be able to deal with their enemy anytime soon. After the Dragon Disaster, too many people were using the chaos around the capital to fish in troubled waters. Some were even Private Armies of certain Lords, disguised as bandits.
After a quick inspection, the maid was ready to hitch the carriage and take Dolores back, showing no intention of inviting Grein along.
Anyone with eyes could see the maid disliked Grein deeply, neither trusting nor welcoming him.
Dolores, who had been observing the situation, suddenly spoke up and invited Grein, saying there was still room in the carriage.
“Your Highness, if he gets in, I can’t guarantee your safety!” the maid quickly protested.
“Don’t worry. He won’t hurt me,” Dolores said softly.
The maid’s grip on the reins was so tight her veins bulged, but she still chose to follow Dolores’ will, reluctantly inviting Grein aboard, and even threatened him as he climbed in:
“If you dare lay a finger on Her Highness, I’ll put a hole in your head!”
Grein looked a little helpless, sitting across from Dolores once he was aboard.
Sure enough, just seeing Grein, an indescribable emotion started to cloud her judgment.
Dolores finally confirmed this at their meeting. The moment she saw him, the word “friend” kept popping up in her mind.
She realized she was beginning to treat Grein as a friend she could trust with her heart. Even forewarned, she could only slightly rein in this downward slide by force of will.
Still, it was difficult for her now to show any expression of dislike or disgust toward Grein, because she just couldn’t do that to a “friend”—so naturally, she wouldn’t do it to Grein.
Dolores was always good to her friends.
Grein was Dolores’ friend.
So Dolores was very good to Grein.
The system’s greatest effect was to make her view him with corresponding [Favorability]. The system would not affect the first rule, since Dolores’ character was a combination of her own personality and experiences.
Its main effect was to change “Grein is Dolores’ xxx.”
Dolores didn’t invite Grein because she was foolish, but because she couldn’t bear to do something like “there’s space in the carriage, but let a good friend walk back alone.” So she invited him.
It was a simple act between friends.
Luckily, Dolores could still recognize this was the system’s doing and notice the oddity. If she couldn’t see the “Favorability” and had no reason to question it, she’d probably just assume her attitude toward Grein was completely normal.
She wouldn’t suspect her sudden friendliness, and might even rationalize it by thinking it was because of the gifts he gave.
Even if she wasn’t touched by them, she would later convince herself, “It must be because of the gifts, so I see him as a friend now.”
Later, feeling the change was too abrupt, she’d probably add, “No one’s ever given me a gift before, so that’s why I was so happy when he did.” Anything to patch over the obvious shift in feelings.
People are prone to self-hypnosis, always finding excuses for things—like “she likes me” and “she must have her reasons.”
The saying, “Those involved are confused, onlookers are clear,” exists because those in the thick of it always see the other as special.
At least now, her feelings toward Grein were only at the “friend” stage. She hoped it would stop there—otherwise, Dolores didn’t dare imagine where things would go.
“Are you worried about me?” Dolores asked.
“Mm.” Grein nodded.
“I see. Thank you for helping.”
During the polite exchange, Dolores pondered Grein’s reason for following her. Was it really just concern? Or did he have another motive?
“Your Highness, why did you suddenly go to Ulin Monastery?” Grein asked curiously.
“I have a friend there. Her name is Hilberu,” Dolores replied.
Grein’s expression visibly froze. He knew who Hilberu was—he never expected Dolores was really going there for her.
Grein subconsciously wondered:
Did Dolores know Hilberu in the past? Maybe he missed something in his previous life, or maybe they’d mentioned each other in passing and he hadn’t noticed.
Meanwhile, Dolores was thinking about something else.
She realized she could still lie to Grein, at least in words, even though she saw him as a “friend.”
Because the current Hilberu wasn’t really her friend, yet she could still use that to answer Grein’s question. That counted as lying.
Dolores brought up Hilberu’s name not to make her a scapegoat, but to protect her. She still hoped Hilberu would help counterbalance Grein’s system in the future.
Since Hilberu had not grown strong yet, Dolores feared Grein might kill her prematurely, so she used her status to add a layer of protection for Hilberu.
At the very least, unless Grein had the power to kill Hilberu without leaving a trace, he wouldn’t risk making a move. After all, if Hilberu was the princess’ friend, murder would be a grave crime.
“Is she a famous nun? I’ve never heard her name before,” Grein continued, and Dolores played along.
“No, she’s still a novice, but she’s a very kind child. If you meet her, you might even like her.”
Li… like?
Like Hilberu, that traitor?
Grein lowered his head, his expression visibly pained.
He remembered an unbearably painful past.
In his previous life, he’d saved Hilberu. She’d seen him as both her ideal and her beloved.
But in the end, she’d pushed him into the abyss.
It was Dolores who’d carried him out of that darkness, step by step.
It was Dolores who had comforted him, word by word, telling him not to give up.
Even when Dolores’ own feet were pierced by sharp stones, she still carried him, helpless as he was.
Even when danger struck, Dolores never abandoned him—instead, she risked her own life to carry him to safety.
It was Dolores who brought Grein back from betrayal and death.
In the end, covered in blood, she embraced him, comforted him, and told him:
“You still have me by your side…”
…
In the past, a golden-haired girl stood in a chapel, pleading to Grein:
“Mr. Grein, can you take me away from the church? I want to help more people…”
“The gods gave me the Saint’s power—not to keep me caged in Saint City like a bird.”
“My power should be used for those suffering in misery. Only then does it have meaning.”
“Please, take me away, Mr. Grein.”
The girl’s expression was sincere, and her blue eyes shone with lofty ideals and a gentle light.
That heart full of dreams was like the rising sun, illuminating the land.