Leyla's wedding was today—one week earlier than in the novel The Way to Save Her (TWTSH). I wore the best outfit I owned, but the moment I stepped out of my room and headed toward Cynthia's chambers, I was hit by the sight of chaos.
It was grand. So grand that anyone watching might have thought she was the bride. Or maybe… maybe this was how nobles truly prepared for a wedding? I wouldn't know. I wasn't even a noble.
"Come here, Keith. Help me tighten this corset," Cynthia said, her voice casual as if commanding a servant.I stepped into her room, the scent of face powder and perfume instantly curling in my nose, and began pulling at the ribbons. "Why not ask your maid to do this instead?" I asked.
"I thought it would be better if you helped me rather than them," she replied, her face half-hidden behind the hands of a makeup artist brushing her cheeks.
Are you… showing off your waistline right now?
"My lady, the carriage is ready—" Epsilon's voice caught mid-sentence, his eyes going wide at the sight before him.
"I'm done," I muttered, tying the last knot."The result is perfect," Cynthia said with a satisfied smile.
I couldn't help the tiny flicker of pride at her praise.
"What were you just doing?!" Epsilon suddenly darted toward me, bumping my shoulder."Why are you touching Lady Cynthia so casually?"
'Huft… I was literally just tightening her corset.'
"I was following my lady's orders," I replied flatly.
"Move aside, I can help her! I follow my lady's orders better than you!"
"Enough, Epsilon. I'm finished. I want to put on my gown, so you should both leave." Cynthia's calm dismissal sent us both out into the hall.
Once the door clicked shut, Epsilon rounded on me, eyes bulging as if they might pop out. "Why were you suddenly allowed to touch Lady Cynthia?"
"I told you," I said, annoyance creeping into my voice, "I didn't touch her, I was merely tightening the corset."
But his face still carried suspicion, and I thought, There's no point in being jealous of me.
However, I couldn't deny that this man was perfectly put together; his crisp, tailored suit seemed to gleam. But wait… the glint of the setting sun caught on the polished, black leather of… high heels? I stared, mouth slightly agape. He shifted, the heels clicking on the pavement.
He's insecure about his height, sure, but to wear heels just to match mine? That's a bit much...
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he snapped.
"No, it's nothing," I said quickly. 'If it suits him, and he looks good in it, what's the harm?'
"But why aren't you dressed yet? Do you want to be late?"
"What are you talking about, Epsilon? I've been ready since earlier."
He gave me a slow up-and-down look. "You plan to wear that?"
"Yeah… what about it?"
"That shabby formal knight uniform?"
Why are you insulting my outfit? This is the most expensive thing I own."Exactly," I answered stubbornly.
He sighed. "Come here."
Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in a room so spacious it made my boots feel too loud on the polished floor. Was this his room? I'd never been here before.
"Let's see…" Epsilon swung open the wardrobe, its dark interior promising hidden depths, enough to swallow a small army. He rifled through the clothes, each rustling softly as he pulled it out. He held the fabrics against me, his gaze sharp, assessing.
"Try this," he said, the parchment-sheen fabric of the deep brown set shimmering under the faint light, cool against my skin as he handed it over.
"But—"
"Just try it. Why are you being difficult when I told you to?"
I took the clothes and stepped into the side changing room. The moment I put them on, I could feel the fine weight of the fabric, the way it hugged my shoulders—it was refined, elegant… far too elegant for a knight like me.
When I stepped out, Epsilon's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Now you actually look worthy to stand beside Lady Cynthia."
"But… the chest feels a little tight."
He froze for a second, annoyed, but then glanced at me. "What can I do? That's my size."
I couldn't help but smiling. Wearing something like this once in a while wasn't bad—it made my confidence spike.
"You—" He stammered, his eyes flicking over me again, and I noticed the faintest flush on his cheeks.
"Hm? What is it?"
"It's… nothing."
What's with him? Was my smile that weird? I touched my jaw, then shrugged it off.
"Alright, let's go. We can't keep the lady waiting," I said.
"You're right…"
Just as I was about to step out, I felt his fingers catch my sleeve. "Are you… okay with this?"
"With what?" I frowned.
"The wedding."
I froze. His expression… did he know? Could he see through me? That couldn't be—this scene wasn't in the novel. I don't remember him noticing Keith's feelings in the book.
No. Unlike Keith in the novel, who subtly revealed his feelings, I didn't. I kept my expression neutral, even cold at times.
What am I supposed to say now?
I exhaled, meeting his gaze. "What's the problem? I'm happy that Lady Leyla is getting married."
"…."
'Why are you silent?'
"I see… well, I'm not happy."
Eh?
"Doesn't it hurt my lady's feelings? Just so you know, Lady Cynthia and Xerta once made a childhood promise—it was practically an engagement." His lips curled in irritation. "And now he has the gall to marry another woman."
'So that's what this is about.'
"And you don't mind if your lady marries Duke Xerta?" I asked.
"If she's happy, what does it matter how I feel?"
'Why are you saying that?'
The exact same words Keith said in 'TWTSH' were now coming from Epsilon's mouth. Why? Could this really be the same Epsilon from the novel?
In the original, he was a mage desperate to be loved by Cynthia—willing to do anything for her. Even after she betrayed him, he still longed for her. He hated the idea of her marrying someone else. But now… now he sounded almost like Keith.
Could my interference in the story have altered his character this much? Was this… an improvement?
If so, there'd be less chance of him falling for her manipulations, less chance of him losing control of his magic… and less chance of me dying. Right? …Right?
"You're suddenly sounding poetic," I teased, "when you were just getting mad about me tightening Lady Cynthia's corset."
Epsilon shot me an irritated glare. "Enough. You talk too much." He strode ahead, his boots clicking briskly.
I was just worried you'd upset Lady Cynthia… he muttered under his breath—too quietly even for Keith to hear.
---------
I had already arrived at Cleygrow, at St. Helios Church. Of course, in the novel, Xerta was always a devout follower of the god Helius. After all, he always swung his sword under the blessing of that deity. Still, it was Leyla who received holy power, despite not being religious at all.
At moments like this, I couldn't help but think about TWTSH. No matter how I looked at it, the timeline and the details of each event were now scrambled, and I knew I bore part of the responsibility for meddling with the story.
In the novel, during Xerta and Leyla's wedding, nothing particularly chaotic happened. The only noteworthy incident was Count Larios Nerwine falling victim to a curse.
Which meant I had to figure out the origin of that curse—and who placed it. For that, I planned to use the reward I'd earned from yesterday's duel, the one I hadn't revealed yet. I was hoping he would help me with his Magic Sight.
That is, unless he's the one behind it all…
But calm down, Keith. I couldn't just start pointing fingers. After all, the novel never gave specific details about this incident. Sure, there was a confession later that Cynthia had done it, but that didn't mean she was the one who laid the curse. It could easily have been someone else. Or maybe Cynthia did indeed know how to use magic—and curses.
Cynthia von Hemser… the novel described her as having low mana output, but she was sharp with her applications. So it was impossible for her to cast a high-level curse that not even a High Saint or a Magic Tower sorcerer could dispel.
If not her, then who else but the genius mage, the Great Magician, Epsilon Durriah?
I turned my head slightly as I entered the church. The inside wasn't particularly crowded, but it was stuffy. My eyes landed on the silhouette of a priest, the one close to Xerta's father—a man who, at least for now, maintained a good relationship with them.
The same priest Cynthia will murder later in the novel.
Given the tragic nature of the novel, I had to wonder what I could expect. Safety, after all, was never guaranteed.
"You're spacing out." Epsilon stood beside me. "Are you still nauseous from the trip?"
Damn this guy. Yes, I knew he was an incredible man, but did he really have to travel via teleportation every time?
He had casually wrapped his arm around my waist before I could prepare, then teleported with me. I thought he could only carry one person at a time, but no—he took two of us at once.
His reasoning was that we wouldn't make it in time by carriage. Fair enough. The distance from Terrafox to Cleygrow was around 70 kilometers.
Still, I was left reeling, my stomach churning. Yet, no matter how sick I felt, I couldn't afford to stain the fine clothes he'd given me.
"Wouldn't teleporting that far drain your mana?"
Epsilon tilted his head. "No… not really. Barely felt anything."
'What a damned OP character'
"Are you two not planning to sit down? You're blocking the entrance," Cynthia's voice came from behind.
"My apologies, Lady Cynthia." Epsilon glanced around. "Let's sit over there." He pointed to a seat near the back on the right side.
"You go ahead. I have something to do." Cynthia moved deeper inside. Epsilon instinctively tried to follow, but I already had a good idea where she was headed.
It was the scene where Cynthia sabotaged Leyla's dress. Later, she would "accidentally" spill wine—the wine she was carrying now as a gift. In the novel, this infamous, almost theatrical act left readers in awe of Cynthia's audacity, ruining a wedding dress right in the middle of the ceremony.
Yet even in the novel, Leyla still married in that stained white gown. That was Leyla's face card—she shone even brighter, more dazzling, as though the stains themselves were accessories.
As if the marks were her crown.
And of course, in the novel, Keith was completely useless in that scene. Not that I was any better now; even the thought of facing Leyla made me uneasy.
"I want to talk to you, Keith!"
That voice—I knew it instantly. I turned and saw Rajir, arms crossed.
"Can you explain yourself?!"
'I'm dead.'
Why was Rajir here? He shouldn't have been able to attend Leyla's wedding—he was supposed to be busy training the new recruits.
'Damn it, I forgot. The timeline has shifted from the novel's, which means there's a real possibility he could arrive, especially after hearing about my defection.'
"Hello, Rajir." I greeted him hesitantly. His cheeks were taut with anger, his eyes sharp. If not for the sanctity of the wedding, I was sure he would have already beaten me senseless.
At least Count Nerwine wasn't here. That was one small relief. Still, I had to deal with Rajir.
"There's nothing to explain."
Rajir's expression twisted. And honestly, I didn't even know why I said that. Why didn't I just pull him aside and talk it out?
"Well, look at you, Keith. Do you really dare to put on that scowl with me now?"
'Of course I'm scowling, you idiot! You practically shouted at me just now, making everyone stare. If I walk away with you now, I can't guarantee people won't run to Cynthia later and report it.'
"So it's true? You've switched sides? Cut ties completely with House Nerwine? You'd throw away all the kindness Count bestowed upon you?"
'Damn, I feel like crying.'
"You're right… and since that's clear, there's no need for further explanations, is there?" The words left my mouth, and in the next instant Rajir's fist connected with my cheek. It wasn't enough to knock me flying, but it did send me sprawling.
"Then that's my farewell punch." Rajir turned his back on me and strode off to join Count Nerwine's seating area.
From afar, I caught the Count's eyes. He looked at me with raw disappointment before averting his gaze.
I stood, brushing the dust from my clothes, and walked in the opposite direction, ignoring the murmurs, the shocked stares, the whispers passing from mouth to mouth.
"How about sitting here?" A voice beside me spoke, accompanied by a pat on the seat next to him.
"Nicholas… Your Grace… you're here?"
"I was invited too. Came alone, though. Just brought myself. Am I not allowed?" He chuckled, naturally drawing everyone's attention. After all, he was addressing me—just a knight.
"Sit down, Keith. Keep me company."
Even from across the room, I saw Count Nerwine, Yuvri, and Rajir turn their heads toward us. In the novel, Nicholas had indeed attended—but Leyla and Nicholas never had much opportunity to interact.
I sat beside him, and the buzz of the crowd swelled. I ignored it. I had planned to sit here anyway, at the seat Epsilon had pointed out earlier.
"Did Your Grace receive an invitation from Leyla?"
"You could say that… oh, and just call me Nick. Alright?"
'Are we really that close?'
"If you say so… Nick."
He smiled, still putting on that foolish act of his. Soon enough, the crowd grew bored of gossiping, deciding Nicholas was just entertaining himself with some random knight.
"You didn't come with Duchess Hemser?"
"I came with her, but she said she had something to take care of. Probably off to greet the bride…"
"…I see. So you're not close to the Duchess? Normally, knights stick by their lady's side."
"She already has Lord Epsilon near her," I answered quickly.
"That's none of your concern, is it? He's not her knight." Nicholas smiled again, though this time the smile felt sharper. "So tell me, Keith—what's your real reason for leaving Lady Leyla's side for Lady Cynthia's?"
"I want to know…" His gaze fixed on me, full of genuine curiosity. This was the true face of Nicholas Eldoria.
'Just how much does this man know?'