​​Finale​

After successfully redeeming the yandere male lead, I said my goodbyes. "I have to go now," I told him. "You'll meet the heroine who is destined to love you. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness." Eric lowered his gaze, silent. Confused, I chose to exit the world. The next day, I was sprawled on my bed, engrossed in a round of Goose Guard. Suddenly, a shriek ripped through my mind. [MALE LEAD'S CORRUPTION LEVEL HAS MAXED OUT. PLEASE PROCEED TO SECONDARY REDEMPTION.] I was thrown back into the pocket world. Only to discover that ten years had passed. The once-gentle prince had become a blood-soaked tyrant. The moment before I appeared, he was wiping his dripping sword, a faint smile on his lips. "Her face," he murmured. "You think you're worthy of wearing it?" 1 When I materialized back in the pocket world, I was still clutching my little pot of cake. I stared, momentarily stunned by the architecture around me—so familiar, yet strangely foreign. "How am I back here?" [Host, there has been an unforeseen complication with your previous mission. Your intervention is required.] Hearing the System's voice, a wave of relief washed over me. So, it was just a mission glitch that needed fixing. That scared the life out of me. I thought the System had bugged out, sending me home for a day only to yank me back again. I dug my spoon into the little cake pot. The cream was sweet and heavenly. I started walking through the palace, a place I could navigate with my eyes closed, heading towards Eric's old quarters. Since I was back, I might as well go see him. I'd even let him try my cake. It was a White Peach Oolong flavor, absolutely divine! He was a man of an older time; he'd never tasted anything like it. I snapped the lid back on the container and ambled down the long, winding palace corridor. Ugh, I was so close to winning that round of Goose Guard. It was all Eric's fault. Of all the times to have a psychotic break, he had to pick the exact moment I was about to corner the last goose. Now, the goose was free, and I was the one who got caught. I'm so mad. When I see him, I'm only giving him one tiny bite. Just a taste. Then I'm going to eat the rest of it right in front of him. That'll teach him. Speaking of Eric, though… Why did he snap? 2 The System offered no answers. I reached the palace wing where Eric and I had once lived together, only to find it deserted, save for a few maids listlessly sweeping and dusting. In the courtyard, the apricot tree we'd planted together was in full, glorious bloom. A spring breeze rustled through its branches, shedding white blossoms like a flurry of snow, dusting my hair and shoulders. A sudden, jarring realization hit me. When had this apricot tree grown so large? The thought had barely formed when the System's voice echoed in my head. [Host, the flow of time in this world is different from yours. Ten years have passed since your departure.] Ten years. No wonder the place felt so cold and empty. Eric was long gone from here, wasn't he? I hurried over to one of the maids, wanting to ask where Eric was now. But the moment she turned and saw my face, her eyes widened in terror. "Do you know—" Before I could finish, she let out a piercing scream. "Assassin! Seize the assassin!" What?! "Wait, I'm not—" She wasn't listening. Tossing her broom aside, she lunged, grabbing me with a strength that belied her station. During my last mission, I was technically a maid too, but I’d never lifted a finger. I'd cleverly delegated all my chores to Eric, spending my days goofing off. In reality, my noodle-armed college student body, which had barely passed gym class, was no match for a maid accustomed to hard labor. In a matter of seconds, she had me pinned. I clutched my little cake pot pathetically. "I'm really not an assassin! I'm here to find Eric. Can you please just take me to him?" The maid's eyes narrowed. "You wish to see His Majesty?" His Majesty? So it was Eric. I'd left when he was still the Crown Prince, the old king's health long failing. After ten years, it made sense he'd ascended the throne. My eyes lit up. "Yes! I want to see His Majesty!" She called over another maid from inside the hall. The two of them bound my hands and, flanking me like a pair of grim sentinels, marched me away. 3 The journey was dreadfully boring. I tried to make small talk. "So, how long has Eric been on the throne?" The maids ignored me. According to the original plot, he was supposed to meet, fall in love with, and marry the General's daughter, becoming the empire's most envied and loving royal couple. But the pocket world had glitched. Eric's mother was executed in a witchcraft scandal, and the entire storyline veered off course. He became a forgotten, pitiable child. A prince who was supposed to be a beacon of light and honor became far more terrifying when he embraced the darkness. That's when the System sent me in, tasked with redeeming him before his corruption was complete. Mission accomplished, plot set back on track. He was supposed to go on to meet his true heroine and live a life of love and devotion with her. And I was supposed to go back to my miserable life of a college student facing five 8 AM lectures a week. A wave of sorrow washed over me at the thought. He gets to fall in love, and I get to suffer through early morning classes. My life is so tragic. I wanted a bite of my cake to console myself. But my hands were tied. I couldn't reach it. Sob. My life is even more tragic. 4 The two maids remained stubbornly silent. I followed them, and when I walked too slowly, they'd prod me to hurry up. Stop prodding me! Don't you know how huge this palace is? A frail college student like me could literally die from all this walking! Just before I did, in fact, die, we finally arrived. The maids handed me off to a head maid, whose uniform indicated a higher rank. Her gaze swept over my arms and legs, a look of understanding and disdain flickering in her eyes. "Well, at least you came prepared." What?! It was only then that I remembered what I was wearing: my nightgown. A sleep dress with a built-in shelf bra. Back home, it was the comfiest thing for lounging around. But here, in this antiquated world, my attire was scandalous enough for the bedchamber, let alone public display. I opened my mouth to explain, but the next second, she seized my chin. The thing is, I'm taller than her. I'm 5'6", and the head maid looked to be about 5'3". Her trying to grab me by the neck was slightly comical. She shot a look to her subordinates, and fearing they might force me down, I voluntarily lowered myself to her level so she could get a better look. I even blinked a few times for good measure. See? I'm being good. No need to tie me up again. The satisfaction in her eyes deepened. "Her temperament is a match, too. His Majesty will be most pleased this time." She released me and moved behind my back. The ropes binding my wrists were cut. The next moment, the grand doors to the hall swung open. I was shoved inside. 5 Though it was broad daylight, the hall was steeped in a deep, oppressive gloom. I'd noticed on the way here that the maids were leading me to a remote, secluded part of the palace. Now, thrown inside, I saw why. The windows were all covered with thick, black paper. Only a single candle seemed to burn somewhere in the inner chambers, casting a crimson glow that pulsed outwards. Faintly, I could hear the sound of a woman crying. Even with the windows sealed, a phantom chill snaked across my skin, raising goosebumps. I clutched my White Peach Oolong cake and tiptoed deeper into the darkness. The closer I got to the inner sanctum, the louder the woman's sobs became. Now I could make out her moans and pleas. "Your Majesty, no more…" "Please, Your Majesty, I can't eat another bite…" At the same time, I heard another sound—the soft, rhythmic dripping of liquid hitting the floor. I froze. I've read enough dark romance novels. A woman's pleas, the sound of dripping liquid… combined, they could only mean one thing. My mind plunged straight into the gutter. Oh God, I'm so corrupted. But why would they throw me in here? The System said the male lead had gone dark. Did that mean he was no longer faithful to the heroine, that he'd started a harem and one woman at a time wasn't enough for him? Panicked, I screamed for the System in my mind, frantically calling it. It took several seconds to respond, as if it had crashed. [That is not the case.] [Host, I cannot speak freely when in proximity to the male lead.] [As for the specific circumstances, you will understand if you proceed further.] [This world is on the verge of collapse. Only you can save it.] [Good luck.] With those final words, the System went completely offline. No matter how many times I called, it didn't respond. I'm screwed. I am so, so screwed. What do I do now?! I took a deep breath, trying to quell the frantic pounding of my heart, only to realize that the sounds from the inner chamber had stopped. The woman's voice was gone. Only the dripping remained. Drip… Drip… Drip… Like a faucet that hadn't been turned off all the way. I knew there was danger ahead. I knew the smart thing to do was hide. But curiosity kills the cat. I couldn't stop myself. I crept forward, peeking around the final folding screen. At the center of my vision was a single, burning red candle. In front of it sat a platter piled high with honey cakes. The surrounding walls were plastered with all sorts of talismans, covered in arcane symbols I couldn't decipher. What I could see, with horrifying clarity, was the woman lying on the floor at the twelve o'clock position. Her mouth was stuffed full of honey cakes. Her throat had been slit. Blood seeped from the wound. Drip— Drip— A stream of crimson flowed toward the red candle. As it touched the base, the flame flared violently. My heart stopped. That was the dripping sound I'd heard. I held my breath, my limbs turning to lead. The scene was ripped straight from the goriest horror movies I'd ever watched. It was one thing to see it on a screen, but to be here, in the flesh… I could hear the whisper of the wind rustling the paper talismans and the sickening, steady drip of blood. The air was thick with the cloying, sweet scent of blood mixed with the fragrance of honey, a combination that made my stomach churn. But the most terrifying part? There was someone else in the hall. And he wasn't in the inner chamber. In the next instant, I felt the cold, hard press of a blade against my neck. Its sharp edge was still slick with the blood of the last victim. In that moment, the gleam of the sword reflected my own ashen face. From directly behind me, a man's soft chuckle reached my ears. His voice, low and gentle, curled around me as his warm breath ghosted against my ear. "Caught you, little mouse." 6 My entire body went rigid. The blood in my veins felt like it had frozen solid. "I…" I tried to speak, but only a single, strangled sound escaped. The words were trapped in my throat. Or maybe, there was simply nothing I could say. I knew Eric was no saint. From the very beginning, he'd never bothered to hide his malice. When the System first brought me to this world, I didn't have a body to inhabit. It had to expend its energy to create one for me. Because the plot had deviated and the world was at risk of collapse, its power was limited. It ended up making a miniature version of me, based on my data. I remember crouching by a small puddle, looking at my reflection. My face was chubby and round, utterly pinchable. I held up my hands; they were chubby and pinchable too. "How old am I?" I'd asked the System. [Six years old.] The male lead was seven, I was six. Close enough in age. All I had to do was stay by his side and guide him away from the path of darkness. Simple enough. Gazing at my reflection, I gave my cheek a squeeze. I was so cute when I was six! Who could possibly resist this level of adorable? Full of confidence, I ran to the desolate palace wing where Eric lived. I tried to push the main gate open. It wouldn't budge. I was too small. I tried to climb the wall. I couldn't get a grip. I was too small. This was infuriating! Finally, I squeezed through a crumbling hole in the wall. Panting, I brushed the weeds and dirt from my hair. And my eyes met a pair of. A pair of pitch-black eyes. He was holding a shard of metal, its edge stained with blood. The smell of rust and blood were so similar, I couldn't tell which was which. All I could see was seven-year-old Eric, standing in a corner of the neglected courtyard. At his feet lay the body of a maid. Her throat had been slashed open. Her head was lolled to the side, her bloodshot eyes wide open, staring blankly towards the hole in the wall. A jolt of pure terror shot through me. "You… you killed her!" Little Eric brushed the metal shard against my cheek, using its sharp tip to flick away a piece of dry grass from beside my ear. He smiled at me. "Another little mouse has arrived."

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