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Though her lower body was paralyzed, leaving her trapped in danger, Ariel felt a faint sense of relief as she watched Allen seize the assassin maid's wrist.
From her perspective—
Allen held the maid effortlessly, his index and middle fingers precisely gripping the dagger's hilt as he slowly pressed the blade toward the maid's face.
Yet his gaze remained fixed on the distant ship outside the window, his tone indifferent.
"Can't release battle aura, poor physical conditioning… Seems you were specifically chosen by the assassin group to pass the maid selection process without raising suspicion."
"In the end, you're just a disposable pawn."
"But even pawns want to live, don't they?"
The maid's chest heaved dramatically.
"P-Please…"
"Slurred speech—neural toxins from the poison have already reached your brain."
Allen glanced briefly at Ariel's legs.
"You delivered the poison via your tongue, which means you absorbed it faster than Ariel did. Tch. A meticulously tailored, twisted method… but surprisingly effective against her. Fitting, I suppose."
"Your Highness, your reputation truly precedes you."
Ariel showed no displeasure at Allen addressing her so casually. But when she heard him follow up with a mockingly respectful "Your Highness," even her well-trained composure faltered for a moment.
The next instant—
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The sound of bones shattering filled the air as the maid screamed in agony. Yet she still clung to her dagger, desperately trying to wrench it free from Allen's grip.
"A-AHHH—!!!"
"Seems your only job was to paralyze Ariel so she couldn't flee during the assassination, avoiding complications like her jumping ship or calling for help. But threatening me? Your brain must be as scrambled as your speech."
"N-No, no, no, no—I—!"
"Everyone has their 'reasons.' It's fine."
"I understand. Besides—"
"The blade is sharp."
Thud.
The dagger plunged straight through the maid's forehead, burying itself to the hilt.
Plop.
The maid collapsed onto the bed, brain matter spilling grotesquely across the sheets—a ghastly mix of white and red.
Allen flicked his wrist, then turned back to the window, narrowing his eyes. Just as he was about to leave, Ariel suddenly grabbed his sleeve.
"Don't worry. There might still be a big fish left, but the immediate threats around this ship are gone. I'll call someone to detox you and treat that wound on your face. You wouldn't want the image you've carefully cultivated to be ruined today—"
At that moment, his sleeve trembled violently.
"H-Huh?! W-Wait—?! You—?!?"
A certain action registered clearly in Allen's senses. His eyes widened in shock as he whipped his head around.
Ariel, frowning at the maid's corpse beside her, clutched Allen's arm—the very one that had just killed the assassin—and trembled uncontrollably. Fear, often suppressed by adrenaline in life-or-death situations, now surged forth with terrifying intensity.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
A puddle spread beneath her.
One second.
Two seconds.
Five seconds.
Ariel let out a long exhale, then lifted her gaze to meet Allen's.
Her sapphire-blue eyes shimmered with—
40% horror, 30% exhilaration, 20% delight, and 10% fear.
A swirling, unmistakable look of…
Ravenous desire.
She stared at Allen, lips curving into a smile. Even half-naked, she carried herself with regal solemnity.
"Allen Boreas Greyrat. Chief disciple of the Water God Style's main dojo. I know you. Five years ago, on the afternoon of May 17th, during the dojo's commendation banquet, you dueled a Saint-ranked swordsman—and shattered his blade."
"Yet rumors claimed you vanished two and a half years ago. Some even said you'd died. But here you are, alive and well."
"Good. Very good."
"So."
"Allen Boreas Greyrat."
"Will you become my knight?"
Exhausted, she leaned against the window frame and extended her hand.
Sunlight seeped through the cracks, illuminating her slender, immaculate fingers—untouched by hardship.
The pose was unmistakable.
She was waiting for him to kiss her hand.
Allen's mind short-circuited. He stared at Ariel's solemn expression, then at her delicate, ring-adorned fingers, then at the silvery strands elsewhere that matched her hair.
His scalp prickled with sheer, overwhelming absurdity.
Are you fucking serious right now?!
Shouldn't you at least PUT ON SOME PANTS before proposing something like this?!
Or, I don't know—UNDERWEAR?!
What the hell—
Me? You? Just—
Ugh. Whatever.
This is peak Ariel behavior.
Allen's face twitched violently. He pinched the bridge of his nose, glanced out the window, and after a long struggle, finally managed two strained words:
"Are you sure the toxin didn't reach your brain?"
Ariel's cheeks flushed with an odd excitement, her blue eyes gleaming brighter.
Brighter.
"Positive."
"...The window's broken. Aren't you worried about people seeing?"
Ariel blinked, then noticed how Allen deliberately avoided looking at her. Her brows rose in amusement, as if she'd stumbled upon a fascinating new toy.
The realization pulled her out of the post-assassination panic and the shock of the corpse beside her. Carefully avoiding the dead maid, she raised a hand—
Smack.
—and slapped her own thigh, leaving a faint red mark.
"The public would only assume you defiled their pure princess. So rather than worrying about me…"
"You should be more concerned about your own reputation."
The cabin fell into deafening silence, the distant shouts of the crowd outside feeling worlds away.
Ariel's voice was crystal clear.
So clear that Allen felt like his ears had just been violated.
(Of course, from this angle, the broken window only exposed Ariel to him—a blind spot he'd intentionally left to preserve her dignity.)
Ariel had noticed.
And so, she promptly threw all dignity out the window.
Since no one else could see…
And Allen was the only witness…
Why not?
Stable investment. Guaranteed returns. No regrets.
This was the first time since transmigrating that Allen had lost a battle of wits—because he simply couldn't keep up with Ariel's mental gymnastics.
Logic had patterns.
But how could someone's words be this unhinged?!
Allen's face had gone numb.
Because the moment Ariel realized he'd slipped up—revealing his familiarity with her by calling her name outright—
She'd fully dropped the act.
No pretense. No decorum.
Just her true, unfiltered self—twisted, perverse, and utterly un-princess-like—laid bare before him.
A bizarre exhibitionism.
And this was their first meeting.
What the hell would happen later?!
In the original story, Ariel had never behaved this way with anyone—not even Luke. With him, she'd only indulged in perverse banter, but when it came to serious matters, she was every inch the dignified royal.
But now…
Allen's eyebrow spasmed as he scrambled for a topic change.
"How far has the toxin spread?"
"...My waist. My legs are completely numb."
"So when you slapped your thigh earlier, you were testing that?"
"Hm? No. I just wanted to show you."
"...Right."
Allen couldn't take it anymore. His eye twitched as he turned and strode to the window.
From the shadows, Ariel watched him, secretly relieved.
At the very least, things couldn't get any better—ahem—worse, right? So why not lay all her cards on the table?
At least this way, she could maintain an air of control.
Salvage some dignity after her earlier panic.
Asura's nobility might enjoy a princess with gap moe, but no one would sincerely support a foolish woman.
Still…
The way Allen knew her—truly knew her, beyond the mask she wore—suggested he'd been observing her for a long time.
Had the "Most Beautiful Princess in History" truly left that much of an impression?
Or was this just a Water God swordsman's sharp intuition?
Fortunately, he didn't seem repulsed by her true nature. If anything, he seemed relaxed around her.
Logically, that should mean he was a fellow noble—someone cut from the same cloth.
So she'd tested him.
And the results… surprised her.
Allen Boreas Greyrat had better self-control than most commoners.
Not a single glance out of line.
Not even one.
How…
Interesting.
Her eyes flicked to the dead maid beside her, and a faint shiver ran down her spine.
The struggle for the throne was escalating. Even if she wanted to surrender now, her life was already forfeit.
Which of her dear brothers had moved so quickly to eliminate her?
Was it because… Dilig's recent actions had drawn too much attention?
She'd warned him…
Dilig kept insisting she had the makings of a king—that she only lacked noble support. She'd played indifferent, hoping he'd give up.
But the backlash had come too soon.
If she continued like this…
She would die.
Allen Boreas Greyrat—whether by status, strength, or sheer presence—was the perfect candidate.
And if he'd been watching her all this time…
Then whether as a princess or as the "Most Beautiful Princess in History," she had something he valued.
Another Greyrat of the Four Great Houses.
But unlike certain someones (cough Luke cough)—
Allen Boreas Greyrat was in a league of his own.
The more she thought about it…
The more the shock of the assassination faded…
The more her lingering regrets about Allen's rumored death twisted into something else—
A burning desire to secure his allegiance.
Not just as a knight.
But as hers.
So, naturally…
Ariel Anemoi Asura…
Had undressed.
For Allen's eyes only.
A show of trust.
(After all, which royal candidate wasn't a schemer at heart?)
In the original story, this was around the time Ariel drowned herself in hedonism, repeatedly rejecting Dilig—mostly because she saw no path to victory.
But royal blood ran in her veins.
The thirst for power was ingrained.
When the dire boar charged into the Silver Palace, when death loomed, when Dilig poured out his dying wish—
That was the moment she snapped.
"I don't know where you came from, but I will sit on Asura's throne! I refuse to die in a place like this! BACK OFF!"
In the original timeline, that was her turning point—when Dilig's death forced her to change.
But now?
The threat of death was the same.
But the reason to fight…
Had shifted.
Because Dilig wasn't dead.
But someone else had caught her eye.
Someone so brilliant that the moment she saw him—
She had to have him.
At least, that's how it felt now.
——
"Tch. Not a real fish after all."
Allen's voice snapped Ariel from her thoughts. She looked up to see him staring out the window, eyes sharp.
Reflected in his pupils—
A small boat's shadow rippled in the dawn light as a short figure hauled itself aboard.
The vessel began moving downstream.
Two figures locked eyes across the water.
Viz Ta, rowing frantically, shot Allen a fearful glance before dragging a finger across his throat—
A throat-slitting gesture.
Exaggerated.
As if torn between wanting Allen to see it and hoping he wouldn't.
Sixty meters separated them. Viz Ta had swum underwater, surfacing only to breathe, and was now safely out of Allen's reach.
But Allen saw.
And grinned.
"The toxin won't hold much longer. That cut on your face needs treatment—I'm sure you care about that. I'll send someone."
He glanced back at Ariel, who—despite his words—still sat with her legs unabashedly spread, as if testing him.
This woman…
Reading about her had been amusing.
Facing her in person was something else entirely.
Allen turned away, watching Viz Ta's retreating figure, and raised an eyebrow.
"The succession battle's already spiraled beyond your control. I get it—you're scared. You want me as a lifeline."
He planted a foot on the broken windowsill, gripping the frame.
"But they're the ones you should focus on. Your usual tricks would work much better on them than on me."
Then—before Ariel could react—he leaped, using the momentum to flip onto the ship's triangular rooftop.
Thud!
Ariel stared at the empty window, brow furrowed.
Had he misunderstood something…?
But then, slowly, her expression smoothed.
It didn't matter.
The connection was made.
Wasn't that enough?
Sunlight streamed through the window, casting her in a radiant glow—
And making her eyes shine even brighter.
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