Philip saw that newly-born trust in her eyes and, for a moment, the weight of his mission eased just a little.Only a little.
He clapped his hands together, instantly shifting the atmosphere.
"Okay, now that everything's sorted out… let's order food."
"What?" Rosalind blinked.
"Of course! I'm poor-rich now. Let's buy ridiculously expensive food—stuff I'd never even dream of touching back when I worked at the call center."
A few minutes later, the two were seated on the absurdly large couch in the equally absurd apartment Seravion had bought, eating while the tension slowly melted away.
Still chewing on a piece of lobster, Rosalind shot him a curious look.
"Heir is your real name?"
Philip scoffed with so much disdain he almost choked.
"Of course not. What a horrible name."
Rosalind laughed, hiding her face behind her hand.
"Then why did you introduce yourself like that?"
"Because that useless failure of a system I have is… well, useless — you've probably noticed by now. In other novels, systems always help the protagonist. Usually, they transmigrate the person into a character with the same name. I'd bet my left shoe that little sociopath-in-training Charlote was also named Charlote in her original world. But nooo, my system decided to create a brand-new character and didn't even bother giving him my name to make my life easier."
Rosalind took another sip of broth, genuinely interested.
"So what is your name, then?"
Philip straightened up, as if finally getting to introduce himself properly.
"Philip. My name is Philip Hartwell. And what about yours? It's not Rosalind, right? I can't imagine a mother naming her daughter that in the real world," he said, face completely smeared with lobster juice, not thinking. When he realized he might have just insulted her actual name, his eyes widened and he rushed to add, "But it's a beautiful name! If your mother chose it, she has excellent taste… haha."
Rosalind raised an eyebrow, watching him get tangled in his own words with his mouth covered in broth.
"My name… is not Rosalind."
She placed the bowl on her lap.
"The protagonist of this world is named Rosalind. I just… received the full package when I fell here."
Philip wiped his mouth with a napkin, trying to look dignified—and failing miserably.
"Alright, so… what's the real one?"
Rosalind hesitated for a moment, as if she were about to hand over something fragile.
"Marina."
She took a breath.
"My real name is Marina."
Philip smiled, genuinely.
"Marina. See? A normal name. A living-on-Earth, bill-paying human name. Much better than Rosalind."
She laughed softly, relieved.
He rested his elbow on the back of the couch, looking at her with a bit more softness.
"And, uh…"
He cleared his throat, remembering his earlier slip-up.
"Not that Rosalind is ugly, okay? It just… doesn't sound like a name your mom would give you, you know? But if she did, I'd say she had impeccable taste. Im-peccable."
Marina let out a real laugh—full, clean, the kind that filled the entire room.
"It's okay, Philip. I get it."
Philip relaxed back into the couch, relieved he hadn't ruined anything.
"Good, because I'm terrible at first impressions. Luckily, you saw me completely messed up on day one, so the bar's nice and low."
Marina smiled, resting her chin on her hand.
"Philip… thank you. For everything today."
He raised his bowl like a toast.
"No need for that. We're coworkers now. Let's fix this hellish soap opera together."