[Check Out My P4treon For +50 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!! And get chapters before publishing them here for free on my p4treon][patreon.com/roaverse]
===
Unlike the fiery, impulsive Eris—who grew up as an unorthodox Asuran noble heir, casually teaching me how to kill—the daily lives of the refined young ladies raised in the royal capital were steeped in tradition.
Violence had no place in their world.
And this 'refinement' began the moment they awoke.
There was no lazing in bed like Eris. For them, the morning was sacred. At the first light of dawn, maids would rouse them at precisely the appointed hour.
Rise, open the floor-to-ceiling windows of the bedroom.
Outside, the mansion's gardens shifted with the seasons—spring blossoms, summer greens, autumn golds, winter frost.
Mouth rinsed, face cleansed. A cup of black tea placed before them.
Then, the day's agenda would be reviewed.
Which banquet to attend? Which dress to wear? Which rival noble girl to tear into? Which young nobleman to ensnare as a devoted admirer?
Of course, the term 'admirer' was merely a euphemism. If their heads were already beneath one's skirt, could they truly be called 'admirers'?
…Indecent.
Yet for one person, this metaphor was no exaggeration—it was literal.
A true 'knight under the skirt.'
Because she was the Second Princess of Asura, a formidable contender for the throne.
Sixteen hours had passed since their departure from Charles the previous afternoon. Ariel's royal barge had sailed down the Alter River through the evening and into the night.
Now, it was dawn.
Even outside the Silver Palace of Asura, Ariel did not sleep in. After being awakened by her adorable maid, she donned a blouse with petal-shaped cuffs and now stood by the window of the barge's top deck, chin resting on one hand, a teacup in the other, gazing at the river.
The steam from the tea curled before her eyes, blending with the predawn hues of the sky and water, tinting her vision the same shade of blue as her own irises.
The river rippled with the wind, the barge swaying gently.
In the faint morning light, her golden hair fluttered messily against her cheeks. Ariel tucked a strand behind her ear and smiled.
Her expression was serene, her attire immaculate.
Breathtakingly beautiful.
The patrolling guards on the lower deck stared, entranced. Whenever they passed, they would pause under the pretense of saluting her—only to steal another glance at the princess's face.
Ariel, ever gracious, returned each with a gentle nod.
Then—
Tap, tap, tap.
Footsteps approached from below. Ariel glanced down to the second deck—the barge's three levels were tiered, allowing a clear view from the top.
There, a young man with dark brown hair stood flanked by two guards. He looked up at her and performed a flawless noble's bow.
"Good morning, Your Highness."
"Good morning, Dilick."
Dilick Rettebatt—Asura's Magic Academy's top graduate, now Ariel's personal guard. To an outsider, his impeccable noble etiquette would suggest he hailed from a prestigious royal family.
But he didn't. His family was, at best, a mid-tier provincial house.
So how had Dilick Rettebatt secured this position?
Beyond his academic merits, it was because his family had once been influential in the capital—before their decline. His father had swallowed his pride, called in old favors, and secured Dilick this role as the Second Princess's guard mage.
Not that it meant much. After all, she was the least likely candidate for the throne.
Still, Dilick himself was quite satisfied with Ariel, believing she possessed the 'bearing of a ruler.' Lately, however, he was troubled by her apparent lack of ambition—especially after she rejected Pilemon's support last month, signaling premature surrender.
Dilick had since thrown himself into frenzied lobbying, scrambling to sway undecided nobles to Ariel's side.
Yet few responded.
His greatest achievement so far? Through distant relatives, he'd recruited two upper-tier adventurer swordsmen. But compared to the First Prince's forces, it was a paltry gain. Hence, this trip to Roa—to rally public support.
Finishing his bow, Dilick adjusted his glasses, pleased to see Ariel hadn't slackened even aboard the ship.
Then, he cleared his throat pointedly.
At his cue, the two adventurer guards beside him snapped out of their dazed admiration and hastily saluted.
Ariel merely smiled and turned her gaze to the horizon.
In the distance, the outline of Roa was just visible.
"Dilick, how much longer?"
"Thirty minutes, Your Highness. The city will hold a welcoming ceremony. You need only acknowledge the crowd from this window. While your reputation for approachability is an asset, as a princess—and a woman—you must maintain a regal presence. Overeager displays of humility would undermine your dignity."
A 'national idol' had to strike a balance. A restrained yet warm image—one that made the people feel honored by her attention—was far more effective than unchecked familiarity.
Ariel tilted her head as if considering this, then took a sip of tea. The flavor seemed to please her; she closed her eyes briefly before nodding at Dilick.
Relieved, he led the guards away.
Ariel watched them go, then wearily turned back to the river.
At that moment—the sun breached the horizon.
Golden light spilled across the Alter River, shimmering on the waves.
The reflection danced in Ariel's eyes, and for a fleeting second, her mind didn't conjure dawn's beauty—but the flash of a blade at a banquet.
A gust of wind rocked the barge.
Ariel swayed, her grip tightening on the windowsill as if steadying herself.
The ship steadied.
Yet her fingers remained clenched, her body trembling.
One second.
Two.
Ten.
Finally, she exhaled deeply.
"Good morning, Your Highness!"
Another guard saluted from below.
Ariel smiled warmly and nodded.
The guard marched off, satisfied.
Ariel, equally satisfied, glanced downward.
Her maid knelt between her legs.
—A true 'knight under the skirt.'
Her mouth, however, was still dutifully performing its morning duty of 'waking the princess.'
Eyes glistening with devotion, like a loyal hound.
Ariel affectionately stroked her hair—then yanked her closer.
This was why Ariel had been spoiling this maid day and night.
Unlike those two useless guards (recruited at the same time), this girl needed no instruction in etiquette.
Perfect.
A shiver ran through Ariel's body.
—[Some details omitted here.]—
—
Allen, too, was stiff.
The clock's pendulum swung.
Click—5:03 AM.
He sat on the bed, legs numb.
Several hours had passed since disposing of the corpses. With two mages assisting, the work had been swift, so Allen had dismissed everyone to rest before their dawn departure from Roa.
But then, problems arose.
Eris, being Eris, had accepted Allen's vague excuse and immediately crashed in her own room.
Rudeus, exhausted, had muttered "No need to thank me" before shooting Allen, Sylphie, and Isolte a glance and vanishing into his quarters.
So far, so normal.
Allen's eye twitched as he tried shifting his numb legs.
No luck.
He looked down.
Isolte and Sylphie each claimed a thigh as their pillow.
…Seriously?
Miss Isolte. Miss Sylphie. Five hours ago, you swore you'd help keep watch in case more assassins came.
How did 'keeping watch' turn into this?
Does this make any sense?!
Neither answered his mental outcry. Their breaths were even, their hair spilling softly across his legs.
At least they were still fully dressed—no repeat of last night's wardrobe chaos.
One dark-haired, one silver. Peacefully sharing.
Harmonious.
Allen sighed inwardly.
Their 'understanding' was painfully obvious. Earlier, while disposing of the bodies, Sylphie's behavior had screamed "I'll let you have Allen for now."
Knowing her, she wasn't jealous—just studying Isolte's actions so she could replicate them later.
Classic Sylphiette. A bizarre, competitive fairness.
He reached out, ruffling Sylphie's hair, fingers brushing her ear.
It twitched, but she didn't stir.
Allen shook his head, then glanced at Isolte.
His breath hitched.
Honestly, if not for the System—or the pressure forcing him to Buena Village—he might've developed feelings for her by now.
Who wouldn't fall for someone who adored you unconditionally? Who cheered you on, stood by you, watched over you for years?
But back in the capital, survival had eclipsed romance. The System's eerie resemblance to Hitogami, yet its tangible gifts (which Hitogami, bound by the Void World, shouldn't possess), had left him too paranoid to entertain a childlike Isolte's affections.
Their daily routine—training, eating, sleeping—lacked the dramatic sparks that had kindled his bond with Roxy during the crisis outside Rikarisu.
So when he left the capital, their relationship remained unresolved.
And due to safety concerns—no letters, no contact for two years—he couldn't explain beforehand.
The result?
Isolte's… unhealthy fixation.
This shouldn't have happened.
Allen recalled their reunion—her expressions, their moonlit walk in Mortalit, the disjointed hallway conversation.
Then, her slaughter of the assassins.
Instinctively, he raised a hand, as he once had when comforting her as a child.
But he froze mid-air.
"Don't overthink it"?
Allen, you know exactly what she's thinking.
He cringed.
Then—
A warm hand covered his.
Isolte's.
Her eyes stayed shut, feigning sleep, but her fingers guided his palm to her cheek.
Hand on hand.
Heat on heat.
Her lips curled slightly—mischievous, like a child savoring candy.
With his Detection still monitoring the inn, Allen sensed it clearly.
In that moment, Isolte's tension melted away.
She'd found her comfort zone.
Allen studied her, then chuckled.
Well, guess I'm officially a scumbag now.
At this rate, my romantic debts are piling up.
Though, given Isolte's current… intensity, a fourth might be—
…No. Right?
He frowned.
Still, returning to the capital meant another letter to Roxy.
Ugh.
She was forgiving, but Allen still felt guilty. Cool-faced, thin-lipped, petite—yet inwardly yearning for romance—his 'goddess.'
The silver lining? If things went smoothly, the Teleportation Incident could be averted, and he could ask Roxy to reunite in the capital.
The safest option.
His mind conjured Roxy's flustered face, fingers tugging at her hair.
'Goddess'…
His expression darkened.
Hitogami.
The System.
The mastermind.
Lara.
What roles do you all play in my transmigration?
And how much has Hitogami twisted my System's abilities?
If the System isn't a standard transmigrator's cheat…
What level of magic could drain my mana like Orsted's Dragon God轮回秘术?
Outside, the sky brightened.
Allen closed his eyes, banishing the tangled thoughts he'd masked with sentimental distractions.
"They say you can't wake someone who's pretending to sleep," he murmured.
"Do me a favor and get up."
"Dawn's here."
===
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 335 on my patreon, go check it out
https://p4treon.com/roaverse
if you want more updates == supports with power stones
Every 20 Power Stones==Bonus Chapter