NOVPUBSir Roland froze when Princess Athena's voice cut through the air. Her casual reference to the Rothschild heir as a "pretty boy" sent ald shiver down his spine. The princess was notorious for her disregard of noble etiquette, but addressing the heir of the kingdom's most powerful family in such a manneruld have serious political repercussions. As she approached withnfident strides, the knight silently prayed to the goddess Aurora that the princess wouldn't cause a diplomatic incident.
Marcus stared in undisguised shock as he rgnized the approaching figure. The sword at her hip, the warrior's stance, the fierce determination in her eyes—there was no mistaking Princess Athena. His mind raced with memories from his previous life, where her name had been legendary. During the demon invasion that had devastated thentinent, she had led the kingdom's armies with unparalleled valor, fighting until her final breath at the battle of Blackstone Pass. Though she had never attained theveted "True Hero" title, the people had bestowed upon her the honorific of "War Goddess," placing her in the same breath as her idol, Celestia Lancaster.
A sudden realization struck Marcus like a bolt of lightning. Wait, isn't Ambrose the grandson of Celestia Lancaster? Her own role model? Yet the princess's dismissive tone suggested no rgnition of thisnnection. The rumors about her character appeared to be true—Princess Athena cared nothing for titles, bloodlines, or status. Her respect was earned solely through displays of strength and valor. Even the grandson of her idol and heir to the kingdom's most formidable noble house received no special treatment from her. Marcusuldn't help but admire such a straightforward personality in a world of political machinations and facade.
Meihua's reaction was starkly different. Her eyes widened in horror as she rgnized the princess, her mind racing through the original storyline she knew so well. "No! No! No!" she panicked internally, her heart pounding against her ribcage. "Everything is all messed up!" She felt that the situation was spiraling out ofntrol, if this reallyntinued, they'd be in danger. She had to find a way out.
Athena strodenfidently before Ambrose, her tall figure casting a shadow over him as she fixed him with an appraising glare. Her arms crossed over her leather-clad chest, her stance wide and challenging. The typical intimidation tactic that had madeuntless nobles and warriors alike shrink back in dimfort.
Ambrose found her directness refreshing. Throughout his life in this world, people had approached him with carefully measured words and actions, alwaysnscious of his Rothschild heritage. The princess's open disdain was a novel experience, one that amused rather than offended him. Interesting character, he thought, studying her fierce expression with analytical detachment.
To everyone's surprise, Ambrose extended his hand toward the princess, offering a handshake as casually as if they were meeting at a merchant's gathering rather than under royal ert. The gesture caught Athena off-guard—she had deliberately spoken disrespectfully to test his reaction, expecting the typical indignation that noble heirs displayed whennfronted with her unpolished manner. Such children usually bristled at her slightest provocation, demanding respect for their illustrious bloodlines.
But this one simply offered his hand, his expression calm and unperturbed. She wondered what he was up to as she reached out tomplete the handshake.
When their handsnnected, the princess was startled by what she felt. His fingers were slender and delicate against her calloused palm, his grip soft where hers was firm. His entire arm felt fragile beneath her touch, as though it might snap with the slightest pressure. Years of sword training had given her a strength that now seemed almost monstrous inmparison to his delicate physique.
Ambrose looked up, meeting her gaze directly with clear, intelligent eyes. "I'll be in your care from now on," he stated simply, his voice carrying neither submission normmand, but rather a straightforward acknowledgment of their arranged situation.
Something unexpected happened in that moment. Princess Athena, the fearless warrior who had stared down enemy generals without flinching, felt heat rising to her cheeks. A strange fluttering sensation overtook her stomach, and her legendary eloquence in battlemmands abandoned hermpletely.
"Umm, well...yeah, sure," she stammered, her usualnfidence evaporating like morning mist. When words failed her entirely, she resorted to nodding vigorously, her golden hair bobbing with the motion.
Ambrose observed her reaction with curiosity. He wondered if she had fallen under his Vulnerable Charm skill. He thought that it was the first time his skill had had such a direct effect, before, it would just make people more favourable of him, but this—the princess's personality type made her particularly susceptible to his passive ability. Proud warriors who looked down on him as weak triggered the strongest Vulnerable Charm responses, their aggressive instincts transforming unexpectedly into protective impulses. And seeing as she seemed like a berserker-type with evidently limited mental strength offered little resistance against the skill's psychological effects.
A small smile touched his lips as he noted her flustered expression. The fierce warrior suddenly reduced to awkward shyness presented a charmingntrast that even his analytical minduldn't help but appreciate.
"You can let go now," Ambrose pointed out gently, looking pointedly at their still-joined hands.
Athena's eyes widened as she realized she had been holding his hand far longer than socially acceptable. She released him immediately, snatching her hand back as though burned.
"Ah, sorry," she muttered, rubbing her palm against her leather trousers, her usualmmanding presence temporarily shattered.
Meihua watched the interaction with fascination and growing understanding. It's that skill again, she realized. In the original story, Ambrose's charm skill had been mentioned as a defensive mechanism tied to his Weak Body physique, but its mechanics had never been clearly explained. The skill's effects seemed random and unpredictable in the narrative.
Sir Roland stood frozen, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. The transformation before him defiedmprehension. Where was the overbearing princess who challenged dukes tombat? What sorcery had turned the kingdom's fiercest warrior into a shy, stammering girl within snds of meeting the Rothschild heir? Had the world turned upside down while he wasn't looking?
The veteran knight's minduld process only one clear thought through hisnfusion—he needed to report this unprecedented development to the king immediately. Without a word of explanation, he turned and rushed from theurtyard, his armor clanking with each hurried step.
