The princess's smile was dangerous—
not "dangerous" in the cute romcom way, but dangerous in the you-will-not-leave-this-place-alive-if-I-get-bored-again way.
It wasn't just the curve of her lips. It was the way the light caught in her eyes, turning them into twin blades. The way her fingers drummed against the armrest of her throne, slow and deliberate, like she was counting down to something unpleasant.
I tried to play it cool. In practice, this meant standing there drenched like a fountain-soaked stray while her guards assessed, with clinical precision, how many pieces my body could be divided into before lunch.
Their armor didn't so much as creak. That was the worst part—they were statues: polished, lethal, and utterly still. The only sound was the steady drip-drip-drip of fountain water from my sleeve onto the marble.
> [New Quest: Accept the Princess's Invitation.]
Reward: "Royal Escort" status — immunity to random arrests (mostly).
Failure: "Accidental" execution during tomorrow's banquet.
Mostly.
The word flickered in my vision like a dying candle. Good to know even the system's protection came with an asterisk.
She motioned for me to follow, and the guards reluctantly opened a path.
Their gazes burned into my back as I passed, and I half-expected to feel steel between my ribs before I took three steps.
The palace was… excessive.
Marble pillars rose toward a ceiling painted with gods who looked judgmental. Gold trim lined every archway, glinting like a taunt. The tapestries were so intricate I could feel the centuries of labor woven into them—likely by some poor soul who died of eyestrain.
My wet sneakers squeaked across the polished floor like a dying mouse with every step.
The sound echoed. The princess didn't turn around.
The system chuckled in my head.
> [Walking directly into your next problem. Bold choice.]
I didn't answer.
What do you even say to the voice in your head that's enjoying this?
---
We stopped in what I could only describe as a throne room designed by someone determined to win Most Likely to Bankrupt the Kingdom.
The air smelled of incense and something darker—iron, maybe. The throne itself was a monstrosity of carved ivory and sapphires, and the princess perched on it like a cat guarding a dragon's hoard.
She sat, crossing one leg over the other, silk whispering as she leaned forward.
The fabric clung to her like liquid moonlight. It should have been distracting—it was—but her eyes, sharp and amused and hungry, were worse.
"So, stranger," she said, eyes gleaming, "where did you learn to entertain royalty?"
Her voice was honey over a knife.
"Uh… YouTube."
The word slipped out before I could stop it. Smooth. Real smooth.
She tilted her head, as if trying to determine whether that was a weapon.
A beat of silence. Then—
> [Harem Affection +5: Intrigue.]
Great. Now bad lying was apparently charming.
Before I could dig myself deeper—
The heavy doors slammed open.
The sound was a physical thing—a boom that rattled the chandeliers. Every guard stiffened. The princess didn't flinch.
A figure stormed in—a girl about my age, clad in battered leather armor and wielding a sword as long as she was tall.
She moved like a storm given human form, boots scuffing the pristine floor. Her dark hair was a snarl of flyaways, and her amber eyes burned with the restless energy of someone fresh from battle and irritated it had ended.
"Is that the guy?" she asked the princess, her voice rough from exertion.
Like I was a stray dog. Or a target.
"Yes," the princess replied, smiling like she was about to unleash a pet tiger. "That's the one."
The girl didn't waste time.
One moment she was at the doorway; the next, her blade was kissing my throat.
"Name," she demanded.
The steel was cold. Her breath was warm. I could smell the fight still clinging to her—dirt, blood, and something wild.
I froze. "Uh… Player?"
Her brow twitched. "Not funny."
The blade pressed closer.
"I wasn't—"
She lunged.
I felt the air part before I saw the swing. Instinct took over—I stumbled back, knocking over a small table in my scramble. Glass shattered. The guards didn't move.
Oh no. This was sanctioned entertainment.
---
> [New Quest: Survive the Duel.]
Reward: "Respected by Battle Maniacs" title.
Failure: Obvious.
The system's timing was impeccable.
I ducked her next swing—barely—and the momentum carried her forward just enough for me to grab the nearest object.
A decorative vase.
Porcelain. Expensive-looking. Useless.
But the moment I held it, the system chimed again—
> [Item Enhanced: Royal Chamberpot of Deflection.]
Effect: Reflects one physical strike per day.
"Oh, you've got to be—"
CLANG!
Her sword slammed into the vase. The impact rang like a temple bell, the recoil sending her stumbling back two steps. She blinked at me, then at the vase, then—
She grinned.
Not a friendly grin—a predator's grin.
"You're interesting," she said. "Fight me again."
I was still trying to remember how to breathe. "No?"
She sheathed her sword in one clean motion, then stepped close enough that I caught the scent of sweat, steel, and something faintly sweet—like sugared fruit.
Her grin softened into something sharper.
"I like men who survive."
> [Side Effect: Second Harem Flag Triggered.]
And just like that, I was two-for-two in a game I didn't know I was playing.