We left at dawn.
Clara rode a bay mare she’d bought for the trip, steady and calm. I rode a gray gelding Tom Blackwood had found for me at a price I could almost afford, which meant Clara had paid for it. That was becoming the pattern of our relationship. She gave me things without mentioning them, I found out and didn’t mention it either, and we both moved on.
Maren rode a black stallion, bigger and faster than either of our horses, and handled it like someone who’d been riding her whole life.
Three riders on the south road out of Millhaven. I’d arrived in that town dead on a tavern floor, and leaving it felt like closing a book I’d been reading and opening one I hadn’t.
The road was packed dirt, lined with trees turning gold and red. My ribs had healed enough that the horse’s movements no longer made me regret every decision I’d ever made, and my wrist was still stiff inside the guard Gwen had made me, but at least it was functional.
We rode in silence for the first hour. Clara led the way, Maren followed behind her, and I brought up the rear.
Clara had told me to handle it. Whatever is happening between you and my sister, handle it.
That had been yesterday.
I hadn’t handled it. I didn’t even know where to start.
After the first hour, Maren dropped back to ride beside me. The cut on her cheek was slowly healing.
"Tell me about the forest," I said.
"The forest is wrong. I know because I’ve passed through it several times before." She glanced at the trees lining the road. "The paths move now. You can walk a trail in the morning, and by afternoon, it’ll lead somewhere else. The creatures don’t behave like animals anymore."
"Did Ren notice?"
"I don’t think Ren notices things like that. He’s the kind of person who walks into a place, kills whatever attacks him, and moves on." She looked at me. "You, on the other hand, like to ask why. That’s the difference between you and him."
"Is he really that good at killing things? I mean, is he that strong?"
"He killed something I’d never seen before. Big, fast, built like a wolf with too many joints. Four movements. By the third, I couldn’t follow his arms." She said it without a hint of admiration. "He found something in a cave, too. He went in and came out different."
Before I could ask what she meant, Clara dropped back and rode on my other side.
"You two have been having conversations without me."
"Joseph wanted to know about the forest," Maren said.
"Ah, is that so?" Clara looked at me. "What did you learn?"
"Nothing much, besides the fact that Ren is ridiculously strong."
Clara was quiet for a moment.
"Does that scare you?"
"Absolutely."
She looked back at the road. "That’s strange."
"Why?"
"From where I’m standing, I think he should be scared of you."
Then she faced forward and went quiet.
I wasn’t sure what to make of that, so I decided not to ask. There were already enough complications between the three of us without adding another one to the pile.
We rode south through farmland, grassland, and rolling hills. At midday, we stopped beside a stream to water the horses and eat some of the dried fruit Clara had packed. For a few minutes, nobody mentioned the forest or the Thorn Collective. Maren told us about the southern road, including which inns were worth staying at and which ones were better avoided. Clara talked about the trade routes.
I listened, ate a fig, and watched them talk.
It was one of the few normal afternoons I’d had in this world.
That evening, we stopped at an inn. Clara paid for two rooms, one for herself and Maren and another for me. We ate in the common room, where Clara went through her papers between bites, Maren kept an eye on the other guests, and I watched both of them.
Clara’s gaze kept flicking between me and Maren whenever she thought I wasn’t looking. Maren, meanwhile, had developed a habit of looking at me a beat too long before turning away.
It was getting ridiculous.
After dinner, Clara stood.
"Goodnight, Joseph. Goodnight, Maren."
She delivered the words with such precision that I almost laughed. Then she went upstairs and closed the door to their room.
Maren stayed behind. She had a cup of something warm in her hands and sat across from me.
"Clara is jealous, isn’t she?"
"How do you know that?"
"Because she’s my little sister." Maren gave me a look. "Did she tell you to stay away from me?"
"She told me to handle it."
"That’s Clara’s way of saying, ’Stay away from my sister.’ She’s not subtle, Joseph, and she hates sharing." Maren leaned back in her chair. "So, are you going to handle it?"
"What would handling it look like?"
"I don’t know. We stop doing whatever this is." She studied me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
"Do you want to stop?" I leaned closer. "Should we?"
"No." She hesitated, then looked down at her cup. "I don’t. But she’s my little sister. I already broke her heart once. I can’t bear to do it again."
She fell silent for a moment before looking back at me.
"But I really want to know you better, Joseph. I want to learn your secrets. Your desires."
My desires?
What I wanted was both of them, though I knew Clara wouldn’t be particularly happy about that. Not that I cared about the complications. In fact, the complications were part of the appeal.
"I know," I said. "But sometimes, you have to stop worrying about everyone else’s feelings. You have feelings of your own, too."
Maren stared at me. "And what if I want to act on them?"
"Then go ahead."
"What do you mean?"
I leaned closer, meeting her gaze.
"Come and kiss me, Maren."
"What?"
By then, the common room was empty. The innkeeper had gone to bed, and the candle on our table was burning low. Maren’s cheeks had taken on a faint blush as she stared at me, desire warring with hesitation.
"Joseph," she said.
"Yeah?"
"I’m probably going to regret this later."
She stood, walked around the table, and stopped in front of me. She was close enough that I could see the cut on her cheek in the candlelight and the uncertainty in her eyes.
Then she leaned down and kissed me.
It was soft and brief. Her lips were warm, and I could taste the ale she’d been drinking. When she pulled back, she looked at me with a blush spreading across her face.
I smiled inwardly.
Then I stood, caught her by the waist, and kissed her again.
I rested one hand against the side of her face, careful not to touch the cut on her cheek. She kissed me back, and the moment grew more intense. When our bodies brushed together, she shuddered slightly before pulling me closer.
After a few minutes, she finally broke the kiss.
She looked at me, still blushing.
"That was my first kiss, by the way."
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. She’d said it with such precision, as though she were reporting an important fact that needed to be entered into an official record.
Maren watched me laugh, then smiled. It was a sweet, almost girlish smile that made her look younger than she usually did.
"Goodnight, Joseph," she said.
"Goodnight, Maren."
She returned to the room she shared with Clara. The door opened and closed, leaving me alone in the common room.
I sat back down, picked up my cup, and thought about what I’d just done.
Clara was in the next room, separated from me by a single wall, completely unaware that I’d just kissed her sister.
Well, not entirely unaware. She already suspected something was happening between us. Tomorrow, she’d probably notice Maren stealing even more glances at me than usual, and that was where my game would really begin.
I’d act as though nothing had happened. I wouldn’t bring up the kiss or give Maren any reason to think I wanted anything more. Instead, I’d let Clara notice the tension for herself.
I wanted both sisters to fall deeply in love with me. If I was going to survive in this world, everyone had to become a pawn.
I wasn’t here to play the hero. I was here to stay alive.
I went to my room and looked out the window. The southern road stretched ahead, winding through the hills. Beyond those hills lay Haremdale City, a place I’d created with my own hands.
I was diverging from the original script, and that was fine. Even if I’d followed it perfectly, I should have died back when I first met Ren. My survival had already changed the story.
Besides, I still had no idea why I’d transmigrated into my own novel in the first place. Was there some grander purpose behind it? Or was some god sitting somewhere, watching me struggle and laughing at my expense?
I’d realized one thing, though. It didn’t matter whether I followed the script or not. The moment I stayed alive, the story had to diverge.
My very existence was the problem.
But I wasn’t prepared to die anytime soon.
I might as well make the best of the situation and live an incredible life in this world. To do that, however, I had to become an unseen force.
I knew I needed to stay out of the hero’s path if I wanted to preserve my life, but that was easier said than done when the damn System kept throwing me into the story.
So I’d have to find a way to cheat the System and play the story by my own rules.
The Dale sisters were my first move.
I blew out the candle and lay in the dark.
Down the hall, I could hear Clara and Maren talking. I couldn’t make out their words, but I knew what sat between them.
Me.
And the kiss I’d shared with Maren.
I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow, we’d continue riding south. In four days, we’d reach Haremdale City. I didn’t know what we’d find there, but I knew who I’d be facing it with.
Just before I fell asleep, the System chimed.
[System Update]
New Skill Unlocked: Author’s Intuition (Rank F)
Description: You can now sense when the narrative is about to shift, approximately one scene before it does. The sensation is subtle. A pressure behind the eyes. A feeling that the story is about to change direction.
[Luck Meter Update]
Current Luck: D+
Previous: D
Change: +1 rank
Now I had D+ luck and an intuition for when the story was about to turn.
Great.