With absolutely zero enthusiasm, I said, “I owe him a thousand gold.” The room went dead silent. Lola froze mid-page flip, her hands hovering in the air as if I had just confessed to murder. Lola’s wide-eyed expression was a perfect mix of disbelief and dismay. “…Excuse me?!” she finally demanded.

  “I didn’t get his body,” I giggled, casting a side glance at Lola, who looked one misplaced word away from launching a full-scale interrogation. “Only his name. Don’t worry.”

  She did not look reassured. Instead, she carefully set her papers down, her movements deliberate, like she was handling a volatile spell that could explode if she so much as breathed wrong. Then she examined me—eyes narrowed, scrutinizing, the kind of stare that made people confess sins they hadn’t even committed yet.

  “You… bought your own name?” The tone was dangerous. Not furious. Not shocked. Just… dangerous. The exact kind of voice one might use to question someone’s mental stability.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Well, what would be wrong if I did?” I pushed myself up from my chair and walked toward the window, tilting my head as I gazed at the bustling courtyard below. The soldiers were preparing, moving supplies, training formations, checking weapons with efficiency.

  I shrugged. “I didn’t, but people spend money on—”

  “We don’t have enough money for most things!” Lola’s voice sharpened, frustration bleeding into every syllable, and I turned just in time to see her gesturing wildly, her movements animated, expressive, a stark contrast to her usual collected composure. “Your influx of funds was welcome, but it’s not nearly enough!” she continued, barreling forward with justified outrage. “And we certainly don’t have a thousand gold to spare for your name!”

  Her face was flushed, a mix of stress, irritation, and that deeply ingrained bureaucratic need to make every coin count. She was mad for all the right reasons.

  So I did what any reasonable person would do in this situation. I strode right up to her, leaned down, and pulled her into a hug.

  Because apparently, I was a hugger now.

  Lola stiffened—her entire body going rigid, like she had just been ambushed by a particularly aggressive tax auditor. “Don’t worry,” I murmured against her stunned silence, a small smirk tugging at my lips. “I was kinda on a thievery spree, so I obtained enough gold for our campaign.”

  I felt her hands twitch slightly, like she was debating whether to push me away. “And,” I added, leaning back just enough to grin at her, “I may have grabbed a few gifts to… you know… incentivize people to fight for us.”

  Lola let out a long sigh, then shook her head, her posture still tense. Finally, she gave me a light shove, breaking the lingering closeness of the hug. Her face was still flushed, her hands curling slightly as if forcing herself to let go of her frustration.

  “I apologize,” she muttered, her voice quieter now, but still carrying that faint, stubborn edge. “But I had to prioritize who gets the last of the supplies and what little money we have left.” She glanced down, her fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve, hesitating. “Lady… I’m so sorry I—”

  “You…” I cut her off with a gentle but firm smile, reaching out and lifting her chin up before she could curl further into self-reproach. “You are the best assistant I could ever have, okay?”

  Lola’s eyes widened slightly, and for a second, I could see the conflicted mix of emotions flashing behind them—relief, embarrassment, maybe even something close to pride. Then, without dragging the moment any further, I stepped back, reclaiming my personal space just as she let out a subtle but clearly relieved exhale.

  “Okay,” she nodded, pulling herself back together, already flipping through her ever-growing stack of paperwork as I returned to my seat. Feet up on the table.

  Classic.

  Lola barely gave me half a glance before moving on. “The second point is that you promised the ceremony should be soon,” she said, her voice slipping effortlessly back into efficiency mode. “You… weren’t exact about the time and just said in the evening.” She shrugged, looking mildly exasperated. “I didn’t know how to fit it into the schedule… or even when you’d be returning.”

  “Sorry,” I shot back instantly. And for once? I meant it. I hadn’t realized just how much I was pushing on her shoulders. And this was supposed to be a game. Not… a job. Well, I paid her, but still…

  A sharp knock at the door rang through the room, cutting off my thoughts. Both Lola and I turned toward the entrance. “Enter,” I called, already expecting more work to be dumped onto my desk. The door swung open, and in strode a courier—a young woman in imperial blue, moving with purposeful speed. She didn’t speak. Instead, she bowed almost to the floor.

  Then, just as quickly, she placed a thick stack of papers on the table, straightened up, and left without a word. The entire exchange took less than five seconds. I blinked. “…Is that normal?” I raised an eyebrow.

  Lola barely even looked up. “Yes.” I stared after the vanishing courier, still half-processing what had just happened, while Lola was already flipping through the documents, skimming with her usual precision.

  “Okay, but…” I leaned back, fingers drumming idly against my knee. “What ceremony are we talking about again?”

  Lola didn’t even glance up. “You promised to appoint Alma.”

  Oh. Right.

  Lola, fully absorbed in her papers, continued, voice matter-of-fact. “Good news—your crew, Scamantha, and a few others have arrived.” She flipped a page, then nodded to herself before delivering the actual important update. “We should now have confirmed around two thousand people on our side.”

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  “That’s good,” I nodded, leaning back in my chair, arms folding behind my head as I closed my eyes for a moment. The chair creaked slightly under my weight, but the sound was drowned out by the faint shuffle of parchment as Lola continued sorting through the endless stream of documents.

  Scamantha.

  Not top-tier in power. But top-tier in resource gathering—which, honestly? Way more useful in the long run. I was going to need a lot of resources to shape my territory into something functional. And more importantly? She was no stranger to thievery. Something I had, uh… recently picked up as a hobby.

  I let a grin curl at the edges of my lips. “You know what?” I said suddenly, sitting up straight, my excitement kicking in like a spark catching fire. “Let’s do both things together!”

  Lola finally looked up, blinking at me like I had just proposed a wildly irresponsible idea. Which, fair. “Both?” she asked, clearly already preparing a counter-argument.

  “Yes! Think about it—” I spread my hands out, gesturing grandly. “They’ll see I can throw away a thousand gold like it’s nothing,” I grinned, feeling a strange rush of confidence at the thought. “And I’ll make a speech.”

  Lola’s eyes immediately narrowed. Oh, she was skeptical. Very skeptical.

  “With my improvements,” I continued, rushing forward before she could protest, “I should be able to not freeze.” And just like that, the excitement really hit me. I wasn’t just saying it.

  I meant it.

  Finally—finally—being able to stand before a crowd, to talk to people, to command without hesitation. Without awkwardness. Without freezing up. Lola tilted her head, watching me closely, curious now. I grinned wider. Because, for once, I actually felt like it was true.

  Lola stared at me for a while, her brows furrowing in thought. Then she gave a small nod, more to herself than to me. “That… That’s actually a very good idea.” She didn’t sound surprised exactly—just like she was trying to figure out how it happened. “I’ll make the arrangements,” she said, already grabbing a fresh sheet of parchment and scribbling furiously, her quill scratching across the page with focused intensity.

  I exhaled, grinning slightly, then turned my gaze toward my own ever-growing pile of work. “Okay,” I muttered, finally surrendering to responsibility. My feet hit the ground, sliding down from my comfortable sprawl as I sat up properly.

  I eyed the stack of papers waiting for me on the desk. “…I guess I need to do my part.” And with only a little bit of reluctance, I reached for the first document.

  The arrangements took a full three hours. At first, I was bewildered. What could be so complicated about gathering people in one place? But apparently, there were imperial protocols. Which meant—of course—that the attaché had to be invited. And I did invite him.

  Reluctantly.

  Because, as much as I hated admitting it, the bureaucratic fossil still held power, and I needed to play nice. With the final courier dispatched, Lola let out a satisfied sigh, stretching her arms above her head before rolling her stiff shoulders. “Everything is ready!”

  “Finally!” I shouted, dropping my quill onto the desk with dramatic exhaustion. The movement sent a splash of ink spilling across the table, but I ignored it entirely, already springing to my feet and striding toward the door. “Let’s go, then!”

  Behind me, I heard a sharp gasp. “Lady, please wait!” Lola’s tone was downright desperate. I paused, turning just in time to see her frantically grabbing at the mess of papers.

  I winced, rubbing the back of my neck. “Oh, sorry,” I said sheepishly, stepping back to help her gather the scattered documents. Her hands moved quickly, flipping through pages like a worried mother inspecting a child after a fall. Once she seemed satisfied that no irreparable disasters had occurred, she exhaled sharply.

  “Where is the ceremony?” I asked, ready to actually leave this time.

  Lola didn’t even look up. “Throne room.”

  “…Excuse me?”

  She finally glanced at me, blinking. “Throne room.” She repeated.

  “We have a throne room?” My confusion deepened.

  Lola, completely unfazed, finished stacking her papers with surgical precision, then straightened her back and motioned for us to go. “Yes.”

  I blinked again, then slowly, suspiciously, followed her out the door.

  On our way to the ceremony—apparently held in the throne room—we came upon a strange sight. A girl.

  At first glance, she looked almost delicate, small-framed, even shorter than me. Without heels. She had the youthful softness of someone around sixteen to eighteen, her features cute in a way that made her look more like a lost noble’s daughter than a warrior. Her long, white hair cascaded down her back and her eyes?

  One red. One blue. Like someone had spliced two worlds together inside her irises.

  Someone played with the character editor.

  She wore normal medium armor, well-maintained, fitted just right—practical, not ornamental. The kind of armor made for actual fighting, not just showing off, which was rare among players. Strapped to her back were two blades. A rapier and a longsword, as if it was completely natural to carry two weapons of completely different styles.

  And right now? She was arguing with a guard. Except… She was apologizing in every other sentence. “I’m sorry—but really, I promise, I’m supposed to be here!” The guard crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Sorry! But—please, just check again, I’m sure—”

  We walked right into the middle of it, Lola’s footsteps slowing slightly as she took in the sight. I raised an eyebrow, watching as the girl bowed slightly between each protest. Her words rushed, polite, but determined.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked the guard, trying to inject some authority into my voice. The guard immediately straightened, snapping into a sharp salute.

  “Lady!” His voice was firm, professional. “This noble girl is claiming she was invited to the ceremony, but—”

  “Sword Queen Charlie!” the girl practically yelled my Rime-con title, her voice bursting with excitement. I blinked. She was already bowing slightly, her eyes wide, practically sparkling, her whole body buzzing with energy. “Sorry! But—please, I was invited! You did invite me!”

  She sounded surprised by that fact.

  Then, suddenly, her expression shifted. Her excitement focusing inward as she closed her eyes, her fingers twitching slightly, like she was reliving a memory. “Your technique in the finale with the rapier…” Her tone dipped, almost reverent, as if she was still seeing it in her mind.

  Lola, to her credit, had completely retreated behind her stack of papers, peeking out like she was shielding herself from Lunaris’ intensity. Meanwhile, I just stood there, momentarily thrown.

  “Uhm.” Alright. That was a lot of energy to deal with all at once. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to refocus. “It’s… possible I did invite you,” I admitted, tilting my head slightly as I gave her a once-over.

  “What’s your name?”

  Her face lit up instantly. “Lunaris!”

  Lunaris? My eyes immediately flicked to her heterochromatic gaze.

  Red. Blue.

  I glanced at her weapons, the familiar dual-wielding setup. Yeah. That checks out. She didn’t have her Katana-like sword yet, but that came later—in the future. And I would know. Because I had watched her fights.

  Because Lunaris was one of the best swordfighters in the game.

  I cocked my head, something slow and amused curling in my chest. “Lunaris?” I repeated, watching her beam up at me, completely oblivious to what she was about to become.

  This sweet, excited, eager girl. This future terror on the battlefield. This feared, dual-wielding menace who would one day cut through enemies like a storm.

  My grin stretched wider. “You’re invited. Don’t worry about it.” I nodded toward the guard. “Keep up the good work.”

  “Thank you, Lady!” the guard bowed.

  Then, turning back to Lunaris, I motioned her forward. “Let’s go.” I threw a glance at Lola, who still looked half-ready to hide behind her paperwork. Then, with a final amused smirk, I started walking, leading the way to the throne room.