Interlude 4: Her Highness the Princess's Misunderstanding

Rewinding time—to last night.

Clarice watched Alvart’s retreating figure and let out a heated breath.

“That wasn't very rational of me...”

If she had prioritized her safety, she should have had him escort her to her room. Although the assailant had retreated, there was no guarantee they wouldn't attack again on her way back. Rationality dictated she should have asked Alvart for protection, but...

“If I had done that... I would have surely shown him that unseemly side of myself again...”

Love at first sight. That was exactly what Clarice felt for Alvart.

Since she was a child, she had passionately loved the fairy tales about the Night King. A dark hero who supported the kingdom from the shadows, watched over the darkness, and fulfilled his mission despite knowing no one would ever thank him. Now that a reincarnation of that dark hero had appeared before her, it was only natural for a powerful fire to ignite within her.

“...Even if he isn't here, you’ll protect me, won't you?”

The question was whispered to the cat huddled at her feet. Clarice safely reached her room with him—and the moment she did, the cat transformed into an old man.

Despite his age, his body, clad in pitch-black attire, was robust and showed no openings. He knelt before Clarice.

“My response to the thief was delayed. It is the greatest failure of my life, Demitru.”

Servant and protector. His very reason for being and his pride were currently dragged through the mud.

“Lady Clarice. Please, grant this foolish old man a severe punishment.”

The old butler pressed his forehead to the floor, begging for atonement. Clarice gave him a motherly smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You are not to blame, Demitru. That assailant was exceptionally skilled. Had your reaction been faster... it’s possible your life would have been lost instead.”

She looked down at the butler kneeling before her.

“From my perspective, that would be the ultimate act of disloyalty. ...If you were gone, Demitru, who could I possibly rely on?”

At his master’s words, the old butler could only reply, “Your words are far more than I deserve.” In truth, he felt he didn't deserve such kindness given his pathetic performance.

“...Don’t blame yourself so much. If anything, I’m grateful. In a way, it’s thanks to you that a bond was formed between myself and Lord Alvart.”

Clarice took a seat at the table.

“How did you perceive him, Demitru? Tell me.”

The old butler immediately gave his answer.

“There is only one thing I can say with certainty at this stage. In terms of combat ability, he is likely on par with Lady Linslet Freanain.”

Clarice gave a small nod at Demitru’s objective opinion.

“...And regarding him being the reincarnation of the Night King?”

“I don't have enough information to say for sure. However, it’s just a gut feeling, but... I believe he is, at the very least, a good person.”

Demitru’s instincts were rarely wrong. So Clarice continued her thoughts on the premise that his statement was true.

“If we have his cooperation... perhaps that incident can be resolved quickly.”

The question that had occurred to Alvart earlier that evening—what Clarice had meant by "new victims." The answer was... an event unique to this world, one that didn't exist in the original game.

It was because of the serial killings that had been occurring at the academy lately.

“Five precious lives have already been lost. ...We cannot allow any more victims.”

“Yes. However... if I may be so bold, Lady Clarice, I believe you should stop going on such "adventures" as you did tonight. My old bones cannot protect you from that perpetrator.”

“You’re right. It was quite careless of me... and arrogant.”

She had been walking through the academy at night to use herself as bait and lure out the killer. She believed that if she, the top-ranked student in the academy, worked together with Demitru, they could easily capture the perpetrator. But...

“The pieces the other side is moving this time are far too strong.”

“They likely recruited them from abroad. If it were a master from within the kingdom, it’s almost impossible that I, Demitru, would be outmatched.”

In reality, if the opponent tonight had truly been the serial killer, Clarice might have achieved her goal. However, the being that had attacked her tonight had absolutely nothing to do with that incident. They weren't a central figure in a non-original event; they were a central figure in a perfectly "original" one.

But without knowing that, Clarice and her butler continued their conversation, believing their misunderstanding to be the truth.

“Since this perpetrator... is someone even the two of us would struggle with...”

“We should entrust everything to Lord Alvart.”

Clarice saw no problem with that. As the reincarnation of the Night King, there was no way he would overlook such injustice. He would surely lead the incident to a resolution.

That was why the most important thing now was... how far he was willing to go.

“Lord Alvart said he was intentionally letting the perpetrator go. His true intention must be...”

“To catch the tail of the mastermind, no doubt.”

Unless they crushed the root of the problem, it would only be a temporary fix. That was surely why Alvart had let an opponent he could have captured escape.

Believing that misunderstanding to be the absolute truth, Clarice whispered to herself.

“...An opponent I couldn't possibly beat. But he...”

“Yes. Once he finds solid evidence and gains a just cause, at that moment...”

The darkness nesting within the kingdom. He would surely devour it.

He was the King of the Night. The great dark noble who ruled over the kingdom’s shadows.

Alvart Zesphiria himself—

Firmly believing in that delusion, Clarice spoke her next words.

“Demitru. I’m thinking of inviting him to the Student Council... what do you think?”

“I believe that is the optimal solution for now. Whether he accepts or refuses, it will not cause us any harm.”

Having reached a conclusion, Clarice let out a small breath... and as she pictured the image of him in her mind—an image that was nothing but a mirage.

She whispered with a voice full of passion.

“Please, save this country. —My beloved lord.”