The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent

After finishing my conversation with Alice and Claire, I stepped outside, but the situation was far from resolved.

There were many loose ends: Charlotte, visibly upset; the children who couldn’t comprehend the unfolding events; the Knights of the Holy Nation, bound tightly despite their healed wounds; and even the Cardinal, who was missing an arm. The pile of issues waiting to be addressed felt insurmountable.

I understood why Charlotte was so displeased. Not only had the situation spiraled into chaos, but I’d acted as though I’d known everything from the beginning. She must be overwhelmed, unable to even imagine how to handle the international upheaval this incident would cause.

Of course, Charlotte wasn’t officially the Queen of Belvur yet. However, she was undeniably closer to the throne than Alice. While the Emperor hadn’t solidified his succession plans, Belvur’s King had firmly designated Charlotte as his successor.

Still, I couldn’t blame Charlotte entirely—I, too, felt unsettled.

Where should I start, and how much should I reveal?

If I told Claire that she bore the Emperor’s blood, I’d have to share all the theories and speculations behind it. The implications alone could lead to hours of debate.

Furthermore, Claire had already made her decision. She’d chosen not to embrace the Fangryphon bloodline and remain part of the Grace family instead. It wasn’t a decision she’d made impulsively—it was one I’d offered her, and she’d chosen. I was obligated to respect her choice. Otherwise, I’d only be betraying her trust.

In time, I’d have to quietly explain things to Leo.

"So," Charlotte interrupted my thoughts.

From her perspective, my silence must have seemed infuriating, especially given that I clearly knew far more than I was letting on.

"Can you explain what that object is?" Charlotte asked, her gaze fixed on the fragment of the relic in my hand.

"This is..."

Honestly, what even is this thing?

I didn’t truly know its "real purpose." In the game, it had simply been referred to as an object tied to the goddess’s power. There were characters who traveled the world gathering its pieces, and the Emperor seemed to be seeking it as well. Yet, even after collecting all the fragments, its exact effects remained unclear.

If I’d played through the sequels, I might have understood what it truly did. Unfortunately, I’d been dragged into this world before I had the chance.

It’s disappointing. I would’ve preferred lounging in my chair at home, casually gripping a game controller, instead of dealing with this mess.

Meeting and befriending the characters I once admired had been a joy, but that joy came with a heavy burden. Unlike watching characters on a screen, where I could vent my frustrations or mock them freely, my actions here directly affected these people.

"My best guess is that it’s an object tied to the goddess’s power," I finally said.

Based on what I knew, that was the most plausible explanation.

"It’s likely a component of some larger device. Once the fragments are assembled into a complete unit and used in the right location, it should grant access to the goddess’s power."

The Cardinal, sitting at a distance, flinched visibly at my words.

It made sense. The Holy Nation’s actions had been driven by this knowledge.

"If it’s so important, why isn’t it in the Holy Nation but here in Belvur?" Charlotte asked skeptically.

"It’s not just in Belvur," Alice interjected, her expression grim as she observed Charlotte’s pale face.

"There were fragments in the Empire too. We don’t know the full history of this device, but it seems the pieces have been scattered across the continent."

"So this is one of those fragments," Charlotte murmured, glancing at me for confirmation.

I nodded.

"Technically, it’s more accurate to call this a collection of fragments. This piece alone already seems to have been partially assembled."

Compared to the relics I’d seen before, this one was larger, its glow more vibrant. Its luminous, broken cogwheel edges suggested that the Holy Nation had indeed poured considerable effort into assembling it.

"The reason it was hidden here was likely to prevent the Emperor from seizing it. While Belvur’s military isn’t as powerful as the Empire’s, it’s still a credible threat."

Of course, in an all-out war, the Empire would win decisively. The damage the war inflicted on the Empire might not even last as long as one might expect.

By comparison, the Holy Nation’s forces were a mere fraction of Belvur’s.

Perhaps the Holy Nation had chosen Belvur as a potential ally in a war, planning to use its strength to hold off the Empire while they escaped. Lutetia, Belvur’s capital, was an ancient city with a maze of winding alleys and extensive underground ruins spreading beneath its surface. It was the perfect place to hide something or plan an escape.

If they’d packed the ruins with their own forces, it would have been an ideal last-ditch stronghold.

"..."

Charlotte pressed a hand to her forehead, as if nursing a headache. After standing silently for a moment, she lifted her gaze, her sharp eyes landing squarely on me.

"Then my next question..." she began, her voice tense.

"Sylvia, how do you know all of this?"

"..."

It was a direct question about my "identity."

Alice, Claire, and Leo might assume my knowledge was tied to my "ability," but this was something else entirely.

I had vague knowledge of how the events of this world would unfold, including the key locations and storylines. I had explored this ruin in the game—perhaps not its entirety, but certainly the critical areas tied to the plot.

If I had been here before, I had been here many times.

"I’ve simply known from the beginning," I replied.

"From the beginning?" Charlotte’s expression grew incredulous.

"I don’t know who my biological parents are. I spent my childhood in an orphanage and was later adopted by the Emperor, who raised me as his daughter. I believe the reason for my adoption was my ability."

I quickly recounted my past, hoping to dispel Charlotte’s doubts. Sharing a pitiful backstory was an effective way to diffuse hostility or suspicion. Generally, such tales weren’t things people were eager to share, making them appear sincere when revealed.

"I don’t truly know who I am. I was once called ‘Sylvia Black,’ but my true origins remain a mystery. The now-deceased orphanage director once told me I had ‘appeared there’ out of nowhere."

"..."

No one interrupted as I continued. Even Alice and Claire, who knew the rough outline of my past, remained silent.

This was the first time I had ever spoken so openly about my history.

"Yes, I possess extraordinary abilities. I’ve been able to act with knowledge that no one else could have. As for the source of this ability, even I don’t know."

I withheld the most critical detail—that my knowledge came from playing a game. Even without explaining how I ended up in this world, I wasn’t lying. Not even Alice, with her keen ability to detect falsehoods, would think I was being dishonest.

"Of course, I don’t know everything. While I knew the location and general layout of these ruins, I had no idea what was truly hidden within them."

"So you wanted to find out for yourself," Charlotte surmised, her gaze softening slightly, though it still held a hint of skepticism.

"You don’t know your own identity either."

"I’m simply trying to uncover the truth," I said.

Charlotte fell silent, her expression one of resignation. It seemed she had decided that pressing me further wouldn’t yield any meaningful answers.

"Then..." she continued hesitantly.

"Should we assume that everything you’re doing is related to the goddess’s power?"

"..."

I nodded silently.

In truth, what other explanation could there be?

I glanced around the room, taking in everyone’s expressions. The Cardinal looked as though he had just had a revelation, trembling slightly. The knights were visibly shaken, their bodies trembling.

As for my friends, their faces were stiff with tension, their thoughts unreadable.

No—there was one exception.

Sophia.