Chapter 1
“Is the Princess of Izaris really here?!”
“Oh my god! Sonetine!”
“Sonetine, show yourself!”
Startled by the stone flying straight toward the window, Taeri—who had cautiously parted the curtain to peek outside—jerked back and hid. The chill of the cold wall seeped into her spine.
Wasn’t this just a dream?
Her bewildered eyes darted around.
The place she was standing in now was a vast room where a bedroom and a sitting room were connected.
The walls were covered in antique wallpaper, and the space was filled with furniture and fixtures you’d only expect to see in an old castle. A chandelier lit with mana stones swayed above her head.
The most out-of-place thing in the room was herself—wearing a pajama dress printed with a giant teddy bear.
The frayed seams she always said she’d cut off someday but never did, and the coffee stains spilled in front of her computer, were still there.
When she noticed the clear logo stamped on the silver teapot sitting on the tea table—Hotel Izaris—her head rang.
What… does this mean I’m really inside the game?
She wanted to insist it was just a hallucination from lack of sleep, but outside, the shouts of the protesters calling for the princess continued to thunder loud enough to make her ears ring.
And if her memory wasn’t mistaken, the people who had carefully escorted her here had also tearfully called her “Princess.”
Princess, princess. Our princess.
All I did was click once.
She had played a game last night. A notoriously difficult RPG called <The Black Forest of Izaris>, infamous among players for its brutal difficulty.
It was meant to kill time—and vent her frustration.
Every year on the anniversary of her mother’s death, the depression would come crashing down on her, but that day she’d felt especially upset and angry.
Doing nothing but sitting still made the tears keep coming, so out of habit she turned on her computer and moved her hands numbly. She figured that no matter how hard it was, she’d see the ending if she stayed up all night.
Maybe it was because of that pointless stubbornness, but even after seeing “YOU DIED” dozens of times—right before the final boss, the dragon—she strangely didn’t want to give up.
She revived her dead character. Fought, died, revived again. Over and over—revival, revival, revival—until the word itself felt sickening…
Then, suddenly, a strange status window popped up on the monitor.
[Would you like to change the hero’s class from Knight to Mage?]
Change the character’s class? That wasn’t a feature she remembered.
The game had always been fixed on a single protagonist—Claude the Knight.
[If you wish, press YES.]
[Press YES.]
[Press YES.]
[Press YES.]
Even though she thought it had to be a bug or an error, what crossed her mind at that moment was something absurdly hopeful.
Can I really change it?
[Press YES.]
[Press YES.]
[Press YES—]
Click.
It really was just that one click.
The sound of it was still vivid in her ears as Taeri sank to the floor and stared at her own palm.
It felt as though a mysterious energy—like blood circulating through her body—was visible beneath her skin.
Acting on impulse, she reached toward the small hand mirror on the table and strongly willed it to come here.
The mirror rattled, shifted slightly in place… and then, as if obeying her command, flew straight into her hand.
“…This is impossible.”
The sound of the mirror clattering to the floor felt just as shocking as the click from the night before.
Reflected in the mirror was a woman with a completely different appearance. Ash-tinted blonde hair, rare orange-colored eyes, and facial features whose lines and shapes were entirely unfamiliar.
Only then did the meaning of the choice window that had appeared in the center of the monitor truly sink in.
[Would you like to change the hero’s class from Knight to Mage?]
YES.
That was the answer she had chosen.
It seemed she really had become a mage.
No—without a doubt, she was a mage now.
* * *
“The princess has returned?”
“Yes. It seems she fought quite a battle in the forest on her way here. Five swamp ants, three jackals, four goblins, and one cave giant. She slaughtered an entire group of ogres outright. The hunting was… exceptionally brutal. The confirmed locations range from the entrance of the abandoned castle all the way into the ruins.”
At dawn, of all times. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—it was the one day Claude had taken off from patrol.
“That’s a lot. Are we sure she did it alone?”
As they walked toward the hotel, Claude pressed for more details, and after a brief pause, the reply came.
“We found palm prints made of blood at the scene. They’re quite large—for a woman, that is.”
“But the princess arrived alone, without any companions.”
That covered the rough outline of the incident. Claude would have preferred to keep walking without interruption, but his steps slowed as his brow furrowed at the sight ahead.
The destination was just steps away, yet the front of the hotel was packed like a swarm of ants.
“Princess, come out!”
“Sonetine, have you no shame?!”
People who’d heard of the princess’s return had gathered early and set up a protest. One stone thrown by the crowd narrowly missed a second-floor hotel window, making the curtain flutter dangerously.
Such diligent, pointless behavior.
Claude pushed forward in silence and stopped in front of a warrior who had been shouting while raising his glaive, demanding the princess be dragged out.
“Who gave you permission to act like this here?”
“My—my lord Governor…”
“I warned you not to disrupt public order.”
“Did you? Ah… my memory isn’t so good…”
“People like you always say that. You don’t remember. You didn’t know. You forgot. So I’ve reached a conclusion—if you don’t remember, you’re automatically guilty.”
“W-What?!”
“You’re guilty. Hang this man over the well. Hang the rest of them too.”
At Claude’s command, the knights surged forward and restrained the man in an instant. One by one, the agitators were dragged away in chaos.
“Have mercy, O bearer of the Holy Sword!”
Someone clung to Claude’s authority and begged for forgiveness, but the holy knight—clad in a dazzling white uniform with a blue cape fluttering behind him—ignored the pleas of the shameless without hesitation.
Only after confirming the hotel entrance had been cleared did he leisurely ascend the steps.
* * *
“Welcome, Governor.”
The hotel manager stepped out to greet Claude before he even opened the door.
A middle-aged woman whose exact age was hard to guess. Gentle and polite, yet the hands she kept neatly folded looked like they could release poison from her sleeves at any moment.
“I am Ansi, the manager.”
“I know who you are. An illusionist.”
Claude spoke lightly, even jabbing the air near her abdomen as if joking, but the manager didn’t let her expression waver.
“Where shall I guide you?”
“The dining hall.”
“I’ll escort you. This way.”
As they crossed the marble floor of the luxurious lobby, Claude calmly surveyed the interior.
In the old district, a building this extravagant was rare.
Excellent facilities, impeccable upkeep—there wasn’t a speck of fault to be found.
Except for one thing: every employee here was a mage.
Claude seated himself in the center of the empty dining hall and flicked his hand, asking for a menu.
“Will you truly be dining here?”
He glanced away from the manager’s face as she asked again, as if confirming his intent.
Near the wall clock, a cleaner shaking a duster and a chef lazily carrying plates both froze when their eyes met his, then hurriedly looked away.
Well, would you look at that.
The repeated questions and furtive glances all stemmed from wariness.
He wasn’t welcome here at all. He’d suspected as much—but feeling it this strongly was something else.
At least I came to the right place.
Handing back the unopened menu, he said,
“I hear the food here doesn’t even earn half a star. You could’ve just recommended something. Anything that won’t kill me if I swallow it.”
“You have discerning tastes. I’m afraid that will be difficult to find at our hotel, sir.”
Such courteous words, spoken with a pleasant smile. Claude couldn’t help but let out a bitter chuckle.
“You don’t need to make it so obvious that you want me dead. Still, I should order something if I’m paying for the seat.”
“Then perhaps wyvern wing bones stewed—”
“Two plates.”
For the first time, the manager hesitated.
“One is for me. The other is for my guest.”
Let’s see if you can still recommend garbage like that when it’s meant for your guest’s mouth.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“I am requesting an audience with a guest staying here.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
From beneath black hair that brushed his brows, cold eyes gleamed playfully.
“Go and tell her. The Governor wishes to see Her Highness the Princess. If she refuses, I’ll come again tomorrow—but I’d prefer to meet her today.”
“….”
“Bring her here. Or I can go to her.”
At the blunt command, the manager’s throat bobbed with defiance and displeasure.
“Aren’t you going? I’m starting to get hungry.”
Under the languid yet oppressive pressure, it was the manager who finally raised the white flag.
“I will relay your words.”
“A wise decision.”
“I’ll place the order immediately.”
“Do so.”
“Governor.”
“Yes?”
“Even if the guest refuses your invitation, you must still pay for both plates. Don’t forget that.”
Clearly a test of wills. Claude gladly paid the not-insignificant advance.
“If it means seeing the princess, I’ll pay whatever it takes.”
* * *
“Here. Juice.”
After ordering something supposedly edible, what arrived was a cocktail glass garnished with lemon and a tiny umbrella.
Is this a joke? he thought—only for what followed to be even bolder.
The woman who set down the two drinks plopped herself down across from him.
Not the manager. Not an employee. A woman wearing a strangely patterned dress that exposed her ankles. Perhaps aware of how odd it was, she’d wrapped her upper body tightly in a long shawl.
“I didn’t have anything that fit. They said they’d find something soon.”
Only then did Claude realize he’d been staring at her outfit far too intently.
At a lady’s upper body, no less.
“My apologies. That was rude.”
He expected a sharp rebuke, but to his surprise, she brushed it off calmly.
She let out a small yawn and rubbed her eyes, and as Claude unconsciously followed the movement, he saw them—her orange eyes, like constellations.
