The next morning, we had breakfast before heading to the girls’ room.
The sexual tension between Maren and me was palpable. You could cut it with a knife, and Clara seemed to notice.
"What’s wrong with you two?" she finally asked.
"What do you mean?" Maren shot back, her voice a little higher than usual.
Clara’s eyes narrowed as she threw me a look that seemed to ask, What’s going on?
I ignored her.
"Can we get back to the problem?" I asked, clearing my throat.
"Yes, we should do that," Maren agreed, nodding a little too enthusiastically.
"Yeah, no. We’re not doing anything until you two tell me what’s going on!"
Maren and I briefly exchanged looks. Then I turned back to Clara, tilted my head, and raised an eyebrow.
"What are you talking about, Clara? Do you hear yourself right now?" I asked, feigning shock.
"Exactly. What do you mean, little sister? What are you insinuating?" Maren added, her voice returning to its usual seriousness.
"I, uhm... You two were acting suspicious." Clara’s face turned red.
I sighed and shook my head.
"And I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. It’s not as though we’re together or anything."
Clara’s eyes widened. For a moment, she looked like she was about to murder someone.
Me, specifically.
Apparently, I’d pushed too far. Even Maren looked surprised by my boldness.
I kept a straight face and braced myself for whatever came next. A verbal assault, perhaps. Or a stabbing.
Either way, I’d made my bed, and I was prepared to lie in it.
Clara opened her mouth, closed it again, then raised her hands and took a deep breath.
"I will deal with both of you later. Now, where do we start looking?"
Hearing her speak like that was genuinely frightening. This was the same young woman who had once asked whether I valued my life simply because her sister had been flirting with me.
I wondered what she’d do if she discovered what Maren and I had gotten up to the previous night.
Thankfully, that was a problem for another day.
We had an urgent matter to discuss, so I put on my serious face.
"I think we should find a way to infiltrate House Vellmore."
Maren immediately shook her head.
"That’s nigh impossible. House Vellmore is extremely strict about security. And no offence, Joe, but how would you even manage that? If only we had Ren. With his looks and fighting ability, he might be able to get into Lord Vellmore’s private security detail."
Maren lifted her head, only to find me glaring at her.
"His looks aren’t even that great," I muttered.
"They actually are," Clara replied absentmindedly.
"Just perfect," Maren added.
Just who the hell did these two think they were?
How dare they praise another man’s looks in front of me?
"If he’s so perfect, what does that make me?" I blurted out.
"You’re smart," Clara answered immediately. A little too immediately.
"You have a great personality," Maren said with a smile, looking rather proud of her answer.
I stared at her.
Was this body really that bad?
I’d never given much thought to Joseph’s appearance because I’d assumed his features were similar to mine. So, did that mean I’d been mid from the beginning?
Maybe that explained why I’d failed to attract girls in primary school, high school, and even college. Come to think of it, my ex had been my first girlfriend, and I’d only managed to get her after my web novels started making me money.
Wait a minute!
"I think I need some fresh air," I announced, already getting to my feet.
I didn’t wait for either of them to respond. I simply walked out of the room.
I needed to clear my head.
I’d never realised how rough I had it until now. Suddenly, I was a little jealous of that bastard with infinite luck.
How dare they compare me to that spoon-fed brat? Didn’t they understand that saying the creation was better than the creator was practically blasphemy?
I could understand Clara doing it out of spite, but Maren?
She’d been the one to start this nonsense in the first place, and that pissed me off.
But I’d get my revenge.
I was a petty person, after all.
A petty creator!
I only came to my senses when I realised I’d wandered too far.
I’d arrived in Haremdale recently, so I wasn’t familiar with the city. That was hardly surprising, considering I’d skimmed over its description when writing the novel.
I’d described it as a bustling city full of life, ten times the size of Millhaven, with plenty of beautiful women going about their business.
It was a web novel, for Christ’s sake! I couldn’t be bothered to describe every street, building, and market stall. Otherwise, my readers would accuse me of padding the word count with pointless descriptions.
Web novels were supposed to be fast-paced and dopamine-filled. Every Chapter needed to give readers something to keep them hooked.
Besides, the narrative was filling in the gaps on its own.
It was practically terraforming my story, adding details I’d never written while somehow keeping the original plot intact. The world was becoming unrecognisable to me, and I suspected the narrative was doing it to make sure I got lost before eventually meeting my death.
I was still fated to die, after all.
I was a virus in a perfectly functioning immune system, and the narrative was the white blood cells trying to eliminate the invader.
Only now, the immune system was rewriting the environment around me.
My actions had already diverged eighteen per cent from the original script.
And I had no idea what would happen when that number climbed even higher.
As I looked around, I felt someone’s gaze settle on me.
I turned towards the sensation.
Then I did the only sensible thing I could think of.
I turned around and left.
I was not having it. Not today.
I approached a nearby vendor and asked for directions back to The Lantern. According to him, I’d wandered thirty minutes away from the inn.
Thirty minutes.
How the hell had I managed that?
After thanking him, I hurried back. The feeling of being watched followed me all the way, refusing to disappear until I returned to the inn.
I didn’t bother investigating.
I was an extra with a glass-cannon build and none of the maximum offensive output. Actually, calling myself a glass cannon was generous.
I was just glass.
I had no business fighting anyone.
Back in my world, there was a saying: Fuck around and find out.
Well, I wasn’t about to fuck around because I really didn’t want to find out.
Not now. Not ever.
I’d already fucked around once by writing a web novel that siphoned away my luck. The result had been my death on a pavement after being struck by lightning on a sunny day.
So, no, sir. No, thank you.
Once inside, I rushed towards my room. On the way, I bumped into someone.
"Sorry!" I called out without stopping.
I didn’t even look back.
I reached my room, shut the door, locked it, and threw myself onto the bed.
I shouldn’t have left the inn.
But regretting it wasn’t going to solve anything. I still needed a way to infiltrate House Vellmore, and walking through the front gate with my current face wasn’t exactly an option.
I’d have to disguise my appearance somehow.
And to do that, I would probably need money.
Which meant asking the two girls for help.
I buried my face in the pillow.
Fuck.