Chapter 2: The First Flag Has Been Stolen
...
The garden behind the Temple of Radiance was quiet—too quiet. A sanctuary of white blossoms, trimmed hedges, and marble benches carved with scripture. It felt like a cutscene was about to start.
And I was the one who'd triggered it.
Elara Wintersong sat gracefully across from me at a small table beneath a flowering tree, watching me with soft curiosity as Clarissa poured tea into delicate white cups edged with gold.
"This is... unusual," Elara finally said, cradling her cup in both hands.
I raised an eyebrow. "Is it? It's only tea."
She tilted her head. "Not the tea. The prince. You're not how I imagined."
Right, I thought. Because the original Lucien would've just smirked, insulted her background, and walked off after throwing money at the temple.
Out loud, I gave a faint smile. "Rumors are rarely kind to villains."
Elara blinked at the word villains. I watched her eyes flicker with confusion, then caution. That was her danger sense kicking in—because while Elara looked like a cinnamon roll, she had combat stats that could solo a demon horde if you so much as threatened a kitten in her presence.
And I was technically the "final boss" she was supposed to help defeat in the game's final act.
"I'm not here to deceive you," I said quietly, breaking the silence.
"I never said you were."
"You're wondering why I invited you here. Why I'm being... polite." I set my teacup down and looked her straight in the eyes. "It's because I admire you."
Her cheeks flushed. A soft pink.
Okay, that was a bit forward, but I had to hit hard if I wanted to leave a strong impression. These heroines didn't fall for cowards.
"You healed my father," I continued, letting my voice soften. "You risked your own strength to do so. That's not just holy magic. That's compassion. And in the palace... compassion is rare."
She looked down at her tea. "You speak like someone who's suffered loneliness."
I blinked. The game never mentioned Lucien's inner life. He was just the arrogant foil. A late-game difficulty spike with flashy magic.
But now? Now I was Lucien.
And he was lonely.
"You're not wrong," I said. "But perhaps that can change."
Elara met my gaze again—and this time, something lingered there. Uncertainty, yes. But also interest.
[Ding!]
[Affection +5 – Elara Wintersong]
[Elara has begun to view you as "Intriguing."]
[New Branch: Lucien Route – Early Romance Triggered]
I almost choked on my tea.
Holy hell. I'd just opened a new branch that didn't exist in the original game. Not an alternate path. A full-blown new route.
Clarissa shot me a quick, confused glance. She couldn't see the system notifications, of course. Only I could.
This meant I was officially off script.
And the game knew it.
After tea, I offered Elara a polite bow. "Thank you for your time. I know it was unplanned."
She smiled again, this time more genuinely. "It was... pleasant. You're not what I expected, Prince Lucien."
"Then allow me to continue surprising you."
As I turned to leave, a subtle shiver ran through the air. Like static. Like a ripple in reality.
[WARNING: Narrative Instability Detected]
[The Hero of Light's timeline is experiencing minor displacement.]
[System recalibration pending...]
I froze mid-step.
The Hero was being delayed?
That wasn't supposed to happen.
The Hero of Light—aka the player avatar in the original game—was supposed to arrive at the Royal Academy today. Meet Elara, trigger their first encounter, and start the traditional romance path.
But now that I'd swooped in and triggered the Elara flag first...
The timeline was breaking.
Which meant I had a little more breathing room.
Perfect.
I returned to the carriage with a grin on my face, tossing my cloak over my shoulder like the smug bastard I was supposed to be.
Clarissa gave me a suspicious side-eye. "That smile concerns me, Your Highness."
"Why? I simply had a lovely conversation with a very interesting woman."
"You usually don't enjoy conversation unless it ends with a duel or a wine glass being shattered."
I chuckled. "People change."
She narrowed her eyes. "Or you've been replaced."
...She wasn't wrong.
Back at the palace, I didn't return to my chambers. Instead, I went to the strategy hall—an unused room Lucien was supposed to "haunt" later in the game, plotting dark revenge against the Hero.
Perfect place for planning.
I cleared the dust off a long mahogany table and began drawing a flowchart on parchment with quill and ink.
Objective: Steal the heroines' flags before the Hero arrives.
There were five main heroines in the game:
Elara Wintersong – the healing priestess with hidden goddess powers. Already in progress.
Kaelith Drakenshade – the half-dragon gladiator. Stoic. Badass. Will punch through a mountain if provoked.
Princess Seraphina Virellia – the tsundere royal mage. Secretly betrothed to Lucien. Hates him. Or used to.
Nyra Moonveil – the beastkin rogue and underground informant. Slippery. Obsessively loyal once romanced.
Lady Mirelle Ashthorn – the noble swordswoman. Pure knight type. Allegedly "unromanceable"... unless.
Each had a distinct flag sequence. Normally, the Hero would meet them at the Academy or through story events. But if I acted first, I could intercept them one by one and change the script.
I tapped the parchment.
Kaelith was still weeks away—she appeared during the Empire's annual coliseum tournament.
Seraphina was already in the capital, but she hated Lucien's guts. I'd need a clever approach.
Nyra? Unpredictable. She had multiple appearances based on your morality stat.
Mirelle...
Wait. Mirelle was already a guest at the palace, wasn't she?
My eyes widened.
[New Objective: Encounter Flag – Lady Mirelle Ashthorn]
[Location: East Wing Practice Hall]
[Risk Level: High – Mirelle is currently unaware of your change in demeanor.]
Which meant she still thought I was the arrogant prince who insulted her swordsmanship, mocked her lowborn roots, and challenged her to a duel.
...Right before she kicked his ass and left him unconscious in front of his knights.
I stood abruptly.
"Clarissa."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"I'll be visiting the East Wing. Have the servants prepare a first aid kit."
She blinked. "First aid? Are you going to pick a fight with the Lady Knight again?"
"Not intentionally," I muttered. "But probability suggests I might get stabbed."
The East Wing Practice Hall was a massive domed chamber lined with weapons, training dummies, and enchanted barriers. It echoed with the rhythmic clang of steel.
And there she was.
Lady Mirelle Ashthorn.
Short silver hair, lean and toned physique, clad in practical leather armor and tunic. Her sword movements were precise, fluid—like a dance honed over a thousand hours.
I approached quietly, watching her spar against a dummy reinforced with magic wards.
She sensed me immediately.
Her blade halted mid-strike.
"Lucien."
Her voice was cool. Flat.
"Lady Mirelle," I said, raising both hands. "I come in peace."
"You usually come in arrogance."
Fair. Absolutely fair.
She turned to face me fully, not bothering to sheath her sword.
"You're not scheduled for a duel until next month. Or did you come early to lose again?"
"Actually, I came to apologize."
She blinked.
"I insulted your technique last time. That was unworthy of me. You've trained harder than most men in this palace. You deserve respect."
She stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
"I'm sorry," she said slowly, "who are you and what have you done with Prince Lucien?"
I chuckled. "Let's say I had a... perspective shift."
Her eyes narrowed.
[You have triggered a "Redemption Event."]
[Lady Mirelle's suspicion is high. Failure may result in physical injury.]
[Affection: 0 → 1]
Okay, not much, but at least she didn't punch me yet.
I took a step closer.
"May I spar with you?" I asked.
She smirked, finally lowering her blade a little. "You sure you want to lose in front of my squires again?"
"I learn best through pain."
She rolled her eyes, but something in her expression changed.
"Alright, Prince. One round."
I grinned.
One round was all I needed to change the script.
...