"The hottest places in Hell are reserved for those who, in a time of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality."
***
I'd been so busy trying not to die that I'd forgotten something important.
Other people existed. And a lot of them were about to have a really bad time.
Lyra was just the first. Over the course of this garbage novel I'd been reincarnated into, dozens of minor characters would get chewed up and spit out to service Leo's heroic journey. Servants, merchants, soldiers, students. All of them would become corpses so the protagonist could look sad for two paragraphs before moving on to his next power-up.
You saved yourself, Extra. Congratulations. Real heroic stuff. What about everyone else?
That thought sat in my head like a rock I couldn't swallow. The smart move was obvious. Do nothing. Lyra's death wouldn't change anything important. Leo would get his sad moment, level up his "protagonist determination," and the plot would march forward. Intervening would cost me resources. Draw attention. Potentially get me killed.
The pragmatic choice was clear.
So why did I feel like such a piece of garbage?
A knock at my door nearly gave me a heart attack.
I scrambled out of my chair, threw on a robe, and tried to make my hair look like I'd been asleep instead of having an existential crisis about fictional murder.
"Young Master Kaelen?" Lyra's voice came through the heavy oak. "Your father requests your presence in the main hall. There's been... an incident."
Right on schedule.
I opened the door. Lyra stood in the hallway, her red eyes wider than normal. Her uniform was crooked, like she'd gotten dressed in a hurry. Those distinctive red eyes, the ones I should have recognized immediately when I first saw her, kept moving down the corridor like she expected someone to jump out at her.
"What kind of incident?" I kept my voice sleepy. Confused. The voice of someone who definitely hadn't been awake for hours memorizing the timeline of a murder conspiracy.
"A theft, sir. At the Blackwood estate. They're requesting permission to search our servants' quarters as part of their investigation." Her hands twisted in her apron.
"A theft? But why would they want to search our people?"
I already knew the answer. I just needed her to think I didn't.
"I don't know, sir. But Lord Blackwood seemed quite insistent. Your father is... not pleased."
That's putting it mildly. Having the Blackwoods sniffing around our estate is the last thing Father needs. Half the noble houses already suspect we're broke. An investigation gives them an excuse to confirm it.
"I'll be down shortly. Thank you, Lyra."
She bobbed a curtsy and hurried away. I watched her go. A person. Someone with a life, hopes, probably a favorite food and a dream about the future. Someone who'd be dead by sunset because Marcus Grundy needed a scapegoat and she was convenient.
Unless I did something stupid.
Really, really stupid.
I closed the door and leaned against it.
Here's how it would play out, according to the novel: Lord Blackwood would show up within the hour with his steward and some guards. Big theatrical production about searching the noble quarters first, where they'd find nothing. Then they'd move to the servants' wing with appropriately grave faces. Grundy would suggest checking the newer hires. The ones with no connections. The ones nobody would miss.
They'd find the necklace in Lyra's room. She'd protest. Nobody would care. Red-eyed half-demon servant versus a trusted noble steward with fifteen years of service? The math wasn't complicated.
Trial. Sentence. Execution. All before dinner.
Unless someone who knew the script decided to rip it up.
I got dressed fast, grabbing the most boring clothes I owned. Brown tunic with a loose thread. Dark pants with a stain on the knee. Scuffed boots that the original Kaelen had stopped caring about years ago. The goal was to be invisible. So unremarkable that people's eyes would slide right past me.
The [Rune of Diminishment] was still hidden in my drawer. I wanted to use it. God, I wanted to use it. With that thing, I could hide my real stats, move without the System breathing down my neck.
But I left it alone.
Too many unknowns. What if it needed attunement? What if there was some kind of backlash? What if someone could sense when it activated? I'd already used it once and still didn't understand what it actually did.
Better to stick with what I know. Social camouflage. The power of being so pathetic that nobody takes me seriously.
I took the servants' passages instead of the main corridors. The back routes were busier than usual, full of worried staff members whispering about the search. News travels fast in a noble household. Bad news travels faster.
The main hall opened up before me. High ceilings. Stone floors. A monument to the Leone family's past glory and current decline. Everything in this place screamed "we used to be important" while whispering "please don't check our bank accounts."
Father stood near the fireplace, talking to Lucius in low, tense tones. My older brother looked as composed as always, which meant he was probably already figuring out how to turn this situation to his advantage. That's what Lucius did. That's all Lucius ever did.
Lady Vivienne was perched on one of the velvet chairs. Her emerald dress matched her eyes. She looked like a hawk that had somehow learned to wear jewelry.
They all looked up when I entered.
I made sure to trip on the threshold.
Just a little stumble. Enough to make me look clumsy. Enough to remind everyone that I was Kaelen, the useless third son, the embarrassment, the walking punchline.
"Ah, Kaelen." Father's voice was flat. "We have a situation that requires the family's united front, such as it is."
Such as it is. Thanks, Dad. Love you too.
I shuffled forward, keeping my shoulders hunched. Eyes down. The posture of someone who expected to be ignored and hoped to be forgotten.
Inside my head, gears were already turning.
Lord Blackwood. Marcus Grundy. The planted necklace. Lyra's execution. Each piece of the puzzle sat in my mind, and for once, I could see how they fit together before they locked into place.
The question is simple, really. Do I let the story play out as written? Or do I stick my hand into the machine and hope I don't lose any fingers?
A servant I didn't recognize rushed past with a tray of refreshments. Father was already arguing with someone about "overreach." Lucius had that look on his face, the one that said he was three moves ahead of everyone and enjoying it.
Okay. Time to see if I can save a life without getting myself killed.
The odds weren't great.
But hey, at least things were about to get interesting.
I just hoped "interesting" didn't mean "fatal."
With my luck? Probably both.