The post-duel reception was everything Marcus hated about noble society.
Forced smiles. Meaningless small talk.
Everyone performing their assigned roles in the great theater of aristocracy.
The ballroom was elegantly decorated.
Crystal chandeliers, expensive wine, servants gliding through the crowd with practiced efficiency.
Theodore and Damien stood at the center, surrounded by admirers.
Both boys were graciously accepting congratulations, still buzzing with post-fight energy.
Marcus grabbed a glass of wine and looked for an escape route.
That's when he spotted Vivienne.
She stood on the balcony, separated from the crowd by open glass doors.
Alone. Still. A splash of crimson hair against the evening sky.
She looked like a wolf trapped in a kennel.
The other nobles gave her space.
Whether out of respect for her legend or discomfort with her divorce, Marcus couldn't tell.
Either way, she was isolated.
Marcus watched a duchess approach her.
They exchanged polite words. The duchess smiled and made some comment.
Vivienne responded with perfect courtesy.
The duchess walked away. Vivienne's expression went blank the moment she turned.
She's dying in there.
Marcus's life coach instincts overrode his common sense. He walked toward the balcony.
Several nobles tried to intercept him. "Lord Marcus, about the duel..."
"Lord Aldridge, your brother was magnificent..."
"Marcus, we should discuss..."
He smiled, nodded, and kept moving. Social obligations could wait.
Vivienne didn't turn when he stepped onto the balcony.
She was staring at the academy grounds, her wine glass held loosely.
"Hiding from the admirers?" Marcus asked.
"Hiding from the vultures." She glanced at him. "You?"
"Same."
"You're the brother of the victor. You should be basking in reflected glory."
"I'd rather not bask. Basking is exhausting."
Vivienne's lips twitched. Almost a smile. "Fair enough."
They stood in silence. The sounds of the reception filtered through the open doors.
Laughter, conversation, the clink of glasses.
It all felt very far away.
"Your brother fought well," Vivienne said eventually.
"He did. So did Damien."
"Damien will learn from the loss. Theodore gave him a masterclass in instinctive combat."
"You sound like you've analyzed the fight."
"Old habits." She sipped her wine. "I've watched thousands of fights. The analysis is automatic."
"Must make you popular at social events."
"Devastatingly so. Nothing charms nobles like a woman mentally cataloguing their combat weaknesses."
Marcus laughed. Vivienne's expression softened slightly.
"You're easier to talk to than most nobility," she observed.
"Low bar. Most nobility would rather discuss tax policy than have an actual conversation."
"True." She turned to face him properly. "Why are you out here, Lord Marcus?"
"Marcus, please. And I told you. Hiding."
"From what?"
"Expectations. Performance.
The exhausting pretense that I care about half the things people want to discuss."
Vivienne studied him with those amber eyes. "You really have changed.
The old Marcus loved being the center of attention."
"The old Marcus was an idiot."
"What changed?"
He died and got replaced by a transmigrated life coach.
"I got tired of being someone I wasn't," Marcus said instead.
Vivienne's gaze sharpened. "And now?"
"Now I'm figuring out who I actually am."
"How's that going?"
"Poorly. But honestly."
She laughed. Actually laughed. It sounded rusty but genuine.
"I appreciate honesty," she said. "It's rare in these circles."
"Then let me be honest. You look like you'd rather be anywhere else."
"Perceptive." She gestured at the ballroom.
"This is my least favorite kind of event.
Too many people pretending too many things."
"Why come at all?"
"Because I'm Damien's mother. Supporting him is my role."
"Even when it makes you miserable?"
Vivienne's expression shuttered. "Parenthood requires sacrifice."
"Sacrifice, yes. Self-destruction, no."
She didn't answer immediately. Just stared at her wine glass.
"I used to be someone important," she said quietly again.
Marcus had heard variations of that line a hundred times in his coaching practice.
Successful people forced into new roles.
Athletes after retirement.
Executives after layoffs.
Parents after children left home.
The grief of losing an identity you'd built your entire life around.
Most people responded with platitudes.
"You're still important!" or "That's in the past, focus on the present!"
Empty words that helped no one.
Marcus looked at Vivienne. Really looked at her.
Saw the legendary warrior trapped in a cage of respectability.
Saw someone grieving a life they'd been forced to leave behind.
Saw someone who needed the truth, not comfort.
"You still are," Marcus said.
Vivienne's head snapped toward him. "What?"
"You still are someone important." Marcus met her eyes. "You just need to remember who."
The silence stretched.
Vivienne stared at him like he'd just spoken a foreign language.
"I'm a divorced countess attending social functions I hate," she said slowly.
"You're the Crimson Viper. A-rank adventurer.
Legend. Living proof that commoners can achieve greatness."
Marcus kept his voice level. "That person didn't disappear just because you got married."
"That was fourteen years ago."
"So? Do skills expire? Does experience evaporate?" Marcus stepped closer.
"You cleared dungeons that killed entire parties.
Fought monsters most people can't imagine. Those achievements are still yours."
"They're in the past."
"Only because you left them there."
Vivienne's breath caught. "I had to. For my family."
"Did you? Or did you convince yourself you had to?"
"That's not..." She stopped, jaw tightening.
Marcus could see the war happening behind her eyes.
Denial fighting recognition. Comfort fighting truth.
"You made choices," Marcus said gently.
"They were probably the right choices at the time.
But that doesn't mean you have to keep making them forever."
"I can't just go back to adventuring. I have responsibilities."
"I'm not saying abandon everything. I'm saying remember who you are underneath the countess title."
"Who am I?"
"Someone who craves the fear. The challenge. The feeling of being completely alive." Marcus watched her eyes widen.
"Someone who's dying slowly in a life that demands she be safe and respectable and boring."
Vivienne's hand tightened on her wine glass. "How did you..."
"I pay attention."
"No one pays attention to me anymore. Not like that."
"Then they're fools."
The words hung between them.
Vivienne looked at Marcus like she was seeing him for the first time.
Her amber eyes weren't dead anymore. Something flickered behind them.
Surprise. Recognition. A spark of the legendary fire everyone said she'd once carried.
"You're dangerous, Lord Marcus," she said quietly.
"How so?"
"You make me want to believe you." Her voice was rough. "You make it sound possible."
"That's because it is possible."
"To be who I was?"
"To be who you are. Past and present. All of it." Marcus smiled.
"You don't have to choose between the Crimson Viper and Countess Blackthorn. You can be both."
"That's not how society works."
"Society can adapt. Or it can be disappointed. Either way, that's their problem, not yours."
Vivienne laughed. It sounded shocked and slightly unhinged.
"You're either brilliant or insane."
"Can't I be both?"
"Apparently you can." She was still staring at him.
"No one has talked to me like this in years."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm a person instead of a cautionary tale about fallen legends."
"You're not fallen. You're just resting."
"Resting." She tested the word. "For fourteen years."
"Long rest. But you can wake up whenever you want."
Vivienne opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked away toward the darkening sky.
When she looked back, her eyes were suspiciously bright.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"For what?"
"For seeing me. Not the legend, not the scandal. Just me."
Marcus felt the weight of that gratitude.
It was too much. Too intense for a simple conversation.
Abort. Retreat. This is getting complicated.
"I should get back," he said. "People will notice I'm gone."
"Of course." Vivienne's voice was steadier now. "Thank you again, Marcus."
The use of his first name felt significant. Like something had shifted.
Marcus nodded and walked back into the ballroom.
He didn't look back.
Behind him, Vivienne stayed on the balcony. He could feel her watching him go.
What did I just do?
He'd meant to offer support.
Professional life coach validation.
Help someone who was clearly struggling.
Instead, he'd just lit a fire under someone who used to be called the Crimson Viper.
This is fine. It's just encouragement.
She needed to hear that. It doesn't mean anything.
But Marcus's emotional intelligence was screaming at him.
The way she'd looked at him in those final moments.
The gratitude mixed with something else.
Interest. Real, genuine interest.
"Brother!" Theodore waved from across the room.
"There you are! Come tell them about the time I broke three training dummies in one day!"
Marcus forced a smile and joined his brother.
He absolutely did not think about the legendary adventurer standing alone on the balcony, staring at the sky with eyes that were finally, finally alive again.
He definitely didn't think about what he'd just started.
I'm helping people. That's what I do. It's fine.
It was not fine.
He'd just accidentally unlocked the third heroine's route.
.
.
.
A/N:
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Give me a Power Stone for the caffeine, and leave a quick review for the validation!
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