After Arthur had finished his business on Elf Island—securing Cleare's allegiance and adding Yumeria to his growing party—he wasted no time lingering in that wretched place.
The island was infested with two types of creatures he had no patience for: pure bitches and dickless bastards who ran their mouths without engaging their brains.
Everywhere he looked, the same scene played out. Elves debasing themselves for coin. Nobles sneering at those beneath them. Fools picking fights over imagined slights.
The entire island was a cesspool of ego and degradation, and Arthur had no desire to marinate in it a moment longer than necessary.
After all, if people were determined to act like clowns—jumping out at every turn to seek fault, to provoke, to posture—who in their right mind would willingly interact with such creatures?
Not Arthur.
Not ever.
Before departing, Arthur made his final arrangements.
Sir Bedivere would remain behind to manage the village—Camelot's first true territory, humble though it was.
The loyal knight accepted this duty without complaint, understanding that a kingdom was built not just on conquest, but on the steady, unglamorous work of governance.
But Kyle would not stay.
The half-elf boy—the child who had been pelted with stones for the crime of existing—stood before Arthur with his small fists clenched and his jaw set.
His mother, Yumeria, would travel with Arthur's party, learning to fight, learning to become strong. Kyle would not be left behind to wait and wonder.
"I want to come with you, my lord."
Arthur studied him for a long moment.
The boy's eyes—still carrying the shadows of every insult, every stone, every whispered "half-blood" that had been hurled at him—burned with something new.
Something fierce.
Determination.
"He has spirit, my king," Bedivere observed, his voice carrying quiet approval. "Raw. Unshaped. But genuine."
Arthur nodded slowly.
"Then shape it," he said. "Temper it into something worthy of Camelot. I expect to see a knight when I return, Sir Bedivere. Not a boy."
Bedivere bowed. "You shall, my king."
Kyle's farewell to his mother was brief but heavy. Yumeria held him tightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, before releasing him to Arthur's care.
The boy didn't cry. He had learned long ago that tears only invited more stones.
Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Come, Kyle. Your training begins now."
The journey to the Adventurer's Guild of the Holfort Kingdom was uneventful—a blessing, given the chaos that seemed to follow Arthur's party wherever they went.
Cleare, ever efficient, had already scouted the optimal guild for their needs: an establishment with a reputation for discretion, tight-lipped staff, and a guildmaster who understood that some questions were better left unasked.
When they arrived, the guild hall was alive with the raucous energy of seasoned adventurers. Laughter echoed off the wooden walls.
Mugs clinked in boisterous toasts. At the far end of the hall, a group of weathered warriors negotiated with guild staff, their voices a low rumble of haggling and banter.
Others stood before the quest board, pondering their next job with the grave intensity of men deciding their fates.
And some... some watched.
Arthur felt their gazes the moment he stepped through the door—predatory eyes assessing the newcomers, weighing their worth, searching for weakness.
"Hah. A green boy, indeed."
The voice came from a weathered man with a scarred face, his nose crooked from one too many breaks.
He sat at a corner table with his companions, a tankard of ale in his meaty hand, his grin wide and mocking.
His eyes swept over Arthur's party—the young knight in his polished attire, the two cloaked figures, the robed mage—and dismissed them as children playing at adventure.
"Look at this lot," the scarred man continued, nudging his companion. "Barely old enough to shave, and they think they're adventurers. What's next? Babes in swaddling clothes taking on dragon contracts?"
His companions chuckled, but the laughter was hollow—performative.
They were testing the waters, probing for a reaction.
Arthur's expression didn't change.
Behind him, Merlin's lips curved into an amused smile. Olivia's cloaked form remained still, her presence a quiet shadow.
Stephanie—also cloaked, her noble identity concealed—said nothing, though Arthur could feel the tension radiating from her.
Despite the mockery, no one moved to stop them. No one sought trouble.
This was the guild hall, after all. Rules existed here—not the laws of kingdoms, but the laws of survival.
Anyone foolish enough to rob or murder a newcomer within these walls would face consequences far worse than a guard's blade.
The guild's reputation was its lifeblood, and the guildmaster would not allow a single rogue adventurer to tarnish it with petty greed or impulsive thievery.
So the weathered men snorted. They sneered. They returned to their ale.
That was all.
In the registration hall, the atmosphere shifted.
The noise of the main floor faded to a muted hum, replaced by the quiet efficiency of guild administration.
A young staff member—a woman with tired eyes and the weary demeanor of someone who had processed too many newcomers—looked up as they approached.
Stephanie stepped forward before anyone else could speak.
She moved with the practiced grace of nobility, her cloaked figure radiating an authority that made the staff member straighten instinctively.
With a single, fluid motion, Stephanie drew back her hood—just enough for the woman to see her face, her golden hair, her cold, aristocratic features.
The staff member stiffened.
Her tired eyes widened with recognition.
She knew that face.
Everyone in the kingdom knew that face—or at least, everyone who paid attention to the noble houses and their endless scandals.
Stephanie Fou Offrey.
The daughter of the merchant-upstart Earl.
The girl with a reputation for cruelty and cunning in equal measure. The young noblewoman who had been mysteriously absent from the capital's social circles for months.
"You know who I am," Stephanie said.
Her voice was soft, almost pleasant—which made it infinitely more dangerous. "I am Stephanie Fou Offrey. And I am here to make a request."
The staff member swallowed hard. "M-my lady, I—"
Stephanie raised a hand, silencing her. "I demand that my entire party—myself included—be granted full access to all quests. From the lowest rank to the highest. We will not waste our time on novice tasks designed for farmers playing at adventure. Skip them. All of them."
The staff member's mouth opened, closed, opened again. "But, my lady, every newcomer is bound by the guild's procedures and rules. It's—"
"The rules," Stephanie interrupted, her voice dropping to a dangerous chill, "were created by nobles and the royal family. I am a noble. I am telling you to bypass them."
She leaned forward, her blue eyes locking onto the trembling staff member's gaze.
"Do this for me, and I shall be in your debt. A favorable position, wouldn't you agree? The gratitude of House Offrey is not something offered lightly."
Then her voice sharpened to a razor's edge.
"But if you mention my presence here—to my father, to my family, to anyone—I will remember. And I will collect that grudge with interest." She smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "You may win their favor by reporting me. A commendation, perhaps. A bonus. But you should know my reputation among the nobles. And I remember everything."
The staff member felt a headache blooming behind her eyes.
She had been trained to handle difficult adventurers—drunkards, braggarts, even the occasional violent thug.
But this?
A noblewoman who could ruin her life with a single word to the right ear?
She knew better than to refuse.
"Please... please wait a moment, my lady." The staff member's voice was strained but professional. "I must inform the guildmaster of your... request."
Stephanie waved a dismissive hand. "Go. I have no patience for your rambling."
"H-Hick—!" The staff member practically fled, her hands trembling as she activated the communication device behind the counter.
Moments later—an eternity, in the tense silence of the registration hall—she returned, her expression a mixture of relief and bewilderment.
"The guildmaster has given his approval, my lady." She bowed deeply, not daring to meet Stephanie's eyes. "Your request is accepted. You and your party may access any quest of your choosing, from the lowest rank to the highest."
Stephanie's smile softened—just slightly.
A flicker of genuine satisfaction beneath the mask of cold nobility.
"Good. You've done well."
Arthur surveyed the quest details with a slow nod of satisfaction.
This was precisely why he had brought Stephanie along.
He had no patience for the slow, grinding climb that most adventurers endured—months of killing rats in cellars and escorting merchant carts through safe roads, all for copper coins and the faint hope of recognition.
With a gesture, he led his party toward the guild staff to formally accept their first commission.
The quest, however, gave him pause.
Escort a prostitute and her daughter to the estate of Count Roscente.
Arthur's brow furrowed.
He read the details again.
Then a third time.
What in the seven hells is this?
His suspicious glare shot toward the staff member—the same woman Stephanie had intimidated into compliance.
She wilted slightly under his gaze but held her ground with the weary professionalism of someone who had explained this exact quest far too many times.
"All of what we do is one hundred percent legal, adventurer," she said, her voice patient but firm. "Don't worry. It's merely an escort, not an illegal sale. Count Roscente is a respectable man."
Arthur's glare didn't waver.
Respectable men don't typically summon prostitutes and their daughters across their home.
Before he could voice his skepticism, Stephanie let out an exasperated sigh.
"Alright, Arthur. Don't overthink it." She waved a dismissive hand, her tone carrying the particular weariness of a noble who had seen far worse scandals among her peers.
"It's just a count who fell in love with a prostitute and wants to marry her. It happens more often than you'd think. Lonely old men. Pretty young women who know exactly what to say. Love blooms. Or something resembling it."
She shrugged. "Let's go. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can find a quest actually worthy of our talents."
Arthur studied her face for a moment, then nodded. If Stephanie—who understood the depravity of nobility better than anyone—wasn't concerned, then neither was he.
He accepted the task without further comment.
They met the quest's targets at the designated rendezvous point: a modest inn on the outskirts of the capital, far from the prying eyes of high society.
The mother was a brown-haired woman with emerald eyes and the kind of practiced poise that came from years of navigating dangerous men.
She was pretty, Arthur supposed, in a conventional way—but nothing extraordinary.
Certainly not the kind of beauty that launched ships or inspired counts to defy social convention.
Not sure why a count would risk everything to marry her, Arthur mused.
But love makes fools of everyone, I suppose.
The daughter, however, was another matter entirely.
She was young—around the same age as Arthur, Stephanie, and Olivia.
Blonde hair cascaded past her shoulders in soft waves, and her eyes held a curious, searching quality as she peered at the adventurers who would be escorting her to her new life.
"Who are they, Mother?" she asked, her voice soft but unafraid.
"Hush, Aria. Go inside the carriage." The mother's voice was sharp, dismissive—the tone of a woman who had learned that the best way to protect something precious was to hide it from view.
"They're just adventurers. We'll be at the count's estate soon. Don't embarrass him by lingering outside or interacting with... commoners."
The word dripped with irony, given her own profession, but she spoke it with the conviction of someone already practicing for her new station.
Aria obeyed without complaint, though her curious gaze lingered on Arthur for a heartbeat longer than necessary before she disappeared into the carriage.
The mother turned to face them fully, her emerald eyes cold and assessing. "Your task is simple. Protect us. Ensure we reach Count Roscente's estate unharmed. That is all."
Without waiting for a response, she climbed into the carriage beside her daughter and pulled the door shut with a definitive click.
Silence hung in the air for a moment.
Then Stephanie clicked her tongue, her expression twisted with aristocratic disdain.
"What an arrogant upstart," she muttered. "She's not even a noble yet, and already she acts as if we're servants beneath her notice."
"Let her be." Arthur shrugged, utterly unconcerned. "Why argue with a prostitute playing at nobility? It's not worth the time or breath."
He turned to the rest of his party. "Mount up. We have a count to visit."
The journey was, by all accounts, uneventful—until it wasn't.
Bandits, drawn by the promise of an unguarded noble carriage, emerged from the forest shadows with blades gleaming and demands of surrender.
They had expected frightened travelers and minimal resistance.
What they encountered was Arthur Pendragon and his party.
The outlaws met their terrible end with brutal efficiency. Arthur's invisible blade carved through their ranks like a scythe through wheat—precise, devastating, utterly without mercy.
Merlin's magic turned the forest itself against them, roots and branches snatching at their limbs while illusions drove them into each other's blades.
Stephanie, her cloak discarded for battle, wielded her noble training with cold precision, each strike a reminder that she was far more than a pretty face.
And Olivia—gentle, soft-spoken Olivia—stood at the rear, her healing magic ready should any of her companions fall.
None did.
The skirmish ended as quickly as it began.
When the last bandit fell, Arthur cleaned his invisible blade with a flick of his wrist and surveyed the carnage with cold satisfaction.
"Efficient," he said simply.
From the carriage window, Aria watched with wide, fascinated eyes. Her mother had tried to shield her from the violence, but the girl had refused to look away.
Who are these people?
She wondered.
They fight like heroes from the old stories.
She filed the observation away for later.
Something told her this would not be her last encounter with the golden-haired knight and his strange companions.
Count Roscente's estate was exactly what one would expect from a man of his station: grand, ostentatious, and desperately trying to project an image of wealth and power that it didn't quite possess.
The gardens were immaculate. The fountains sparkled. The servants moved with practiced deference.
And at the top of the marble steps, flanked by his legitimate children, stood Count Roscente himself—ready to greet his new wife and her daughter with all the dignity his position demanded.
Then he saw her.
Stephanie Fou Offrey.
The Count's welcoming smile froze on his face. His spine stiffened. His hands, which had been clasped in a gesture of paternal warmth, trembled almost imperceptibly.
Behind him, his daughter and son—summoned to greet their new "family" with forced smiles and hidden resentment—also stiffened.
They recognized the Offrey heiress instantly. Everyone in noble society knew that face. That cold, beautiful face that promised either favor or ruin, depending entirely on her whim.
Arthur didn't give them a chance to react further.
"We have completed the task, Count Roscente." His voice was calm, professional, utterly devoid of the tension crackling through the air. "The journey was uneventful, aside from a minor bandit incursion. Your new family is unharmed. I trust our cooperation has been pleasant."
Count Roscente blinked rapidly, his mind struggling to process what his eyes were telling him.
No. Impossible.
He looked again. Stephanie Fou Offrey—or the woman who looked exactly like her—had already drawn her cloak back over her features, obscuring her face in shadow.
She stood among the adventurers like a ghost, present but unreachable.
The Count rubbed his eyes.
I must be mistaken, he told himself, the denial settling over him.
My eyes are old. I've been under too much stress with this... arrangement.
It's impossible for Earl Offrey's daughter to be here, among common adventurers, escorting a prostitute to a count's estate.
Absurd.
Utterly absurd.
As for why his daughter and son had also stiffened—why their faces had gone pale and their smiles had frozen into masks of barely concealed horror—the Count subconsciously and conveniently ignored it.
Some truths were too inconvenient to acknowledge.
"Ah... yes. Thank you, adventurer." Count Roscente's voice was strained but functional.
He straightened his posture, reclaiming some semblance of noble dignity. "Your service is appreciated. The guild will be notified of your successful completion. You may... you may take your leave."
"Until we meet again, Count."
He turned without waiting for a response, his party falling into step behind him.
Stephanie's cloaked figure moved with particular grace, her silence more damning than any words she could have spoken.
As they departed the estate, Aria watched from the carriage window, her curious eyes tracking the golden-haired knight until he disappeared from view.
I'll remember you, she thought. Arthur. I'll remember.
No one will be able to foresee that this young girl will one day hold the power to reverse time.
Her name was Aria Roscente: the infamous protagonist of The Villainess Reverses the Hourglass.
She will be a woman haunted by two lifetimes of memories, and consumed by an obsession with King Arthur.
Note: Yeah, I added some characters from other franchises to fill the gap caused by the lack of noble and elf characters, since the Mobuseka cast list is too small for an epic, grand kingdom-building story. Maybe I'll include some commoners and vampire characters too. I don't like using OCs in fanfiction, so I brought in characters from otome manhwa I've read before—sometimes even from pornhwa. Even pornhwa can have medieval or otome settings.
Let me summarize the background of this new character. In short, she has an hourglass that can turn back time for three minutes, but it comes with a cost. I forgot what the cost is—maybe I'll check the wiki later.
Yeah, it's short—just three minutes.
It seems pretty costly, if I remember correctly, but I'm not entirely sure. My memory is kind of fuzzy. Luckily, technology nowadays is very advanced, so even if I forget something, I can easily look it up.
Now, guess—who will be summoned next?
The next chapter will reveal it.