Chapter 32 : Review
Ailiya was jolted awake at dawn by her internal “punch-the-clock” instinct.
Sporting dark circles rivaling an abyss beast’s eye sockets, she sat up groggily, her head throbbing as if a troll had clubbed it all night.
The hangover scorched her throat like the Sahara and churned her stomach.
The air reeked of fermented ale, mingled with cream cake and some unidentified fried stench—a biochemical assault that could knock anyone out.
Pulling back the curtains, the morning sun stabbed her eyes like a dagger, nearly finishing her off.
She stood by the window, on the verge of dozing off.
The room looked like a dragon’s rampage had hit—empty bottles strewn about, crumpled ribbons and balloon scraps everywhere, cake frosting smeared on the table.
Aurora was gone, leaving only a neatly folded blanket on the floor, a lone monument in the wreckage, proof of her presence.
That girl sure bolted fast.
Rubbing her aching temples, Ailiya grappled with last night’s revelation, which still buzzed in her mind like drunken bees, shattering her simple worldview.
Two 21st-century losers, steeped in booze, had spent the night in an unprecedented cross-world “intel swap.”
“…So, according to your ‘game script,’” Ailiya muttered hoarsely to the air, piecing together the bombshell conversation, “next, at a joint ball, Sylvie, the class leader, meets Prince Leon. Then, Lady Liliane gets jealous and starts targeting her?”
What kind of cliché is this? It’s straight out of a last-century shoujo manga.
Aurora had not only detailed the plot but declared her solemn mission as a “knower”: to save her favorite character, Liliane von Winter.
“Speaking of…” Aurora had mused, propping her chin and studying Ailiya like a rare specimen. “In the game, you’re just a background nobody. How’d you end up as Liliane’s personal maid?”
“How should I know?” Ailiya had slumped on the floor, feeling like her fate was dough kneaded by an invisible hand. “I’m just a sap stuck slaving for that demon capitalist because my deadbeat parents left me drowning in debt.”
“No, that’s off,” Aurora had countered, her expression as serious as if solving a complex puzzle. “With Liliane’s no-nonsense nature, a million-gold-coin debt? She’d never let your parents slip away. Unless…” She leaned in, green eyes glinting with curiosity, whispering, “Do you have some hidden trait that drew her in? A secret ability? Or… are you a hidden character in this story?”
“I’m not some premium collectible!” Ailiya had wailed. “I’m just an ordinary ex-bakery mascot good at kneading dough! Before transmigrating, I’d never even heard of this story! I’m just a spectacularly unlucky loser!”
Aurora had fallen silent, tapping her cheek, pondering this massive variable beyond her “strategy guide.”
Seeing her intensity, Ailiya had a sudden epiphany. “What if… Liliane’s like us too?”
The idea barely left her mouth before Aurora’s roof-rattling shriek shut it down.
“Absolutely impossible!” Aurora had leaped up, hands on hips like a cat defending its turf. “Liliane’s my favorite! I know her inside out! Every gesture, every word—it’s exactly like the game! If she were off even slightly, I’d know instantly!”
“Alright, alright…” Ailiya had surrendered, ears ringing from the outburst. “Lower your voice; you’re deafening me.”
Calming down, Ailiya switched topics. “Since you know the story so well, what’s your next move?”
Aurora had instantly resumed her confident “pro gamer” stance, counting on her fingers as she explained the world’s “true ending.”
“In the game’s ‘true ending,’ years from now, Tartaglia Kingdom falls to a revived ancient war. Almost all main characters, including Liliane, die in the conflict.”
“Who wrote this ending?” Ailiya had griped. It sounded like a project she’d slaved over, only to have the budget slashed, dooming everyone. “Don’t the writers fear a reader riot?”
“So!” Aurora had clenched her fists, eyes blazing with purpose. “I’m here to stop it!”
“How?”
“To avoid derailing the main storyline completely, I’ll let most events unfold as scripted,” Aurora had explained. “I just need to tweak one key trigger for the ‘true ending’—stopping Sylvie from becoming the Saintess.”
“Stopping the protagonist from becoming the Saintess? Isn’t that sabotaging her?” Ailiya had worried.
“No problem,” Aurora had grinned confidently. “It’s the best route—Leon’s route. Without becoming Saintess, Sylvie, through her wit and effort, brokers peace between nations, averting world destruction and living happily with Leon. No deaths—the perfect ending!”
Glancing out the window, she’d added, “In a few days, St. Ross Men’s Academy’s exams will wrap up. Then our academy hosts the traditional joint ball, where Sylvie meets all her ‘love interests.’ I need to ensure it goes smoothly.”
“Why bother?” Ailiya had asked, puzzled. “If you do nothing, won’t the story just follow its course?”
“I thought so too,” Aurora had sighed, pointing at Ailiya. “But look at you! A nobody in the game, now Liliane’s maid. And Leon, meant to debut at the ball, showed up at St. Freya early. The story’s already veering off!”
She’d spread her hands, unusually serious. “If we don’t intervene now and steer it back, even I, the ‘knower,’ can’t predict what’ll happen.”
Snapping out of her reverie, Ailiya sighed deeply.
Too much information to process in one night.
She sluggishly tidied the room, slipped into her maid uniform, and braced for the day’s work.
Before bed last night, lying awake, watching Aurora on the floor, Ailiya had voiced a lingering doubt. “Aurora, why tell me these world-shaking secrets? I’m just a powerless maid. I can’t exactly save the world.”
In the dark, Aurora’s voice carried a hint of amusement. “At least now you’ll behave and stop doing crazy stuff like punching out princes.”
“What’d you say?” Ailiya hadn’t caught it.
“I said, why’d you sleep with the light on?”
“Oh, sorry.” Ailiya had gotten up, switched off the lamp, and the room plunged into darkness.