However, before Jon could reply, the Imp had already started moving his two short legs, preparing to catch up with the hunting party that was about to depart.
Even so, he didn't forget to turn back and warn Jon.
"Friend, I think we can consider ourselves friends now, right? Then I must warn you: stay away from my sister, no matter the reason."
As he said this, the Imp grabbed a Red Cloak to help him onto his horse, then set off with the hunting party.
Hearing this warning, which sounded almost like a threat, the transmigrator subconsciously licked his lips.
Now, he wasn't sure where he had slipped up to let this guy see something was wrong between him and the Queen.
But racking his brains yielded no results. He needed to gather more intelligence to confirm this fact.
So Jon decisively chose to keep it in mind for now and put it aside, then began to focus on his next steps.
For now, his persistence in "surviving by staying low" had already begun to crumble.
And as a Snow with little say in anything, even if he had a belly full of plans, he couldn't influence any of the big shots, including Lord Eddard.
Even if he could foresee many possibilities, that was based on the premise of not changing the original destiny.
But looking at it now, even if he calculated everything perfectly, he probably couldn't control everything.
Fortunately, this unreliable System seemed to give him some possibilities and choices. Even if there were significant risks, it was better than nothing.
With this comfort, the transmigrator found another reason to "lie flat" and silently sighed.
"Since things have come to this, let's eat first."
Having made up his mind, Jon strode toward the dining hall.
Turning a corner, seeing the Great Hall full of distinguished guests from King's Landing, Snow naturally had no interest in participating.
So he decisively chose to turn away, planning to find food later.
But he seemed to have forgotten that life rarely goes according to plan. The more you try to dodge trouble, the easier it finds you.
Just as Jon turned his back, an enthusiastic duck-like voice called out his name.
"Hey! Snow! Over here!"
Hearing this voice, Jon didn't even need to turn around to imagine Theon's exaggerated face.
Therefore, not only did he not look back, but his steps became even faster.
However, the other party clearly didn't intend to let him go.
Before Jon could slip away, the Ironborn rushed over and dragged him toward the long table.
"What are you running for? The opportunity is right in front of you. Don't say I didn't tell you."
As he said this, Theon's wretched face was full of smugness, like a fox that had stolen a chicken, clearly having taken advantage of something at last night's feast.
However, when Jon heard the word "opportunity," instead of being excited, he was full of suspicion.
After all, with his status, even if there were benefits, they wouldn't fall on his head.
On the contrary, if an "opportunity" was delivered right to his mouth, he'd better pray it wasn't poisoned...
Sure enough, before Jon could confirm his premonition, the so-called "opportunity" started walking toward him.
Unlike the local village women, these city girls from King's Landing were all soft-waisted and dressed in colorful finery.
Even though they were highborn nobles, they were generous and bold, displaying their charm to the fullest, making the young men of the castle stare straight-eyed.
If Jon still couldn't see what was happening by now, he would be too dense.
Clearly, Theon, this wretched dog, didn't catch the eyes of these girls at all.
The reason he called Jon over was definitely to use Jon's handsome face to curry favor with the beauties.
Sure enough, just as Jon confirmed this, he noticed that the look in the girls' eyes when they looked at him seemed to hold some indescribable meaning, just like Queen Cersei's strange look earlier.
However, upon encountering this gaze again, Jon could finally confirm it: it was clearly a suppressed desire, akin to the hunger for a hunt.
"Crap, they're coming for me!"
Understanding this, Jon didn't know whether to be happy or worried.
If it were another time and place, he wouldn't mind sampling these benefits.
But after last night's "great battle," even though he was in his prime, the transmigrator felt a bit overwhelmed and just wanted to avoid these troubles.
Moreover, right now he hadn't come up with an excuse to escape going South, nor did he know how to steer destiny back on track, so he had no time to mingle with these girls.
So after a simple greeting, Snow grabbed some bread and smoked fish, along with a full cup of ale, and prepared to find a quiet place to deal with his meal.
As for the grumbling and disappointed Theon? Let him die. An Ironborn should go find Ros; he didn't deserve to eat good food in this life.
Walking out of the dining hall, Jon felt instantly refreshed. After polishing off his breakfast in record time, he finally had the mental space to sort out his future plans.
Although he verbally resisted, he knew better than anyone that going South to King's Landing wasn't his choice, but the only arrangement available.
And this clearly deviated significantly from his original destiny!
Thinking of the original plot, Jon suddenly realized something was wrong. According to the original trajectory, Bran should have fallen from the tower by now.
A few days later, after the King and Lord Eddard left, an assassin would come to the door, intending to finish off the poor child.
And that—was the true starting point of the Game of Thrones!
Thinking of this, the transmigrator finally recalled the key point he had forgotten: that schemer Littlefinger.
Since he wasn't a book purist, he couldn't figure out how Petyr Baelish could send an assassin from thousands of miles away, or how he could accurately predict that Bran would fall from the tower, using that to arrange an assassination to provoke chaos between the Wolf and the Lion.
Unless... there was someone in Winterfell feeding him information.
Of course, this was just the crudest deduction. In reality, perhaps Littlefinger was simply well-prepared and waited for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to throw the Seven Kingdoms into chaos so he could steal power.
Conversely, if everything was arranged by Littlefinger, then this Master of Coin's abilities were truly terrifying.
Having thought this through, Jon couldn't help but start calculating.
Now, with the intervention of himself and the System, Bran should be safe and sound.
So the perfect trigger to intensify the conflict had vanished. Presumably, the assassin lurking in Winterfell would choose another target when the time was right.
As for the most valuable candidate, naturally, it couldn't be Rickon, who was still running around with a runny nose, nor would it be the Lady of Winterfell.
Therefore, the Heir to the North—Robb—might be the most worthwhile target.
However, these were all just his speculations and counted for nothing.
Unless he could find concrete evidence, given his currently delicate relationship with Robb, the other party would only suspect him more.
But after careful consideration, the transmigrator decided to intervene as much as possible to keep everything running in the intended direction.
But just as he was about to get up, he heard a chaotic noise coming from the distance.
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