The carriage came to a stop before long, and they both exited.

"Well dear prince," said the man slowly, carelessly with no genuine care in his tone. "Enjoy your little adventure."

They shared a careless glance, before turning in the opposite directions and continuing on their own path. The town was carefully constructed, entirely realistic with the moss that ran long over the edge of old stone, and the clamour of citizens.

In the middle of the bustling streets where stalls are set up, and voices crowd, he stopped. A shiver crawled up his spine, even under the fake sun's warmth.

Something was watching him.

Peering in a corner, following his every move.

He imagined a person crouching down, hidden under the stalls or in the windows, carefully staring at him with large, unblinking eyes. He glanced around calmly, a hand resting in his pocket, but there was nobody around.

It could be anybody in this hustle of people. There was nothing he could do except keep walking, and wait for the eyes to reveal themselves.

Strangely, all the citizens were incredibly obedient, and didn't meet his eyes. There was a sense of unease laid over them, draped in fine silk. Almost robotic, inhumane.

And whenever he looked away, he felt a dozen pairs of eyes creeping at him.

Opening the map, dark red pulsed near him.

There was a slipper around, somewhere among these tables. He moved, the cloak that was draped over him moving along with him, stopping by each table. Finally, he turned into an alley, wondering if perhaps it was more hidden than he expected.

Tap, tap.

The sound of footsteps.

They grew faster, closer before they are rushing down the alley and blocking the light. Lucas reacted quickly as they lunge at him, dodging to the side before slamming his fist up, feeling it connect with a soft stomach.

The man groaned, cursing as Lucas flipped him over, slamming him to the stone ground.

He pressed on their arm with a knee, calmly gazing at them. "What do you want?"

A weak Character. The man struggled violently, flailing around as he huffs, pain in his body. "L-let go of me, bastard!"

Lucas pressed harder into the arm, feeling the bone press against his knee. Any more pressure and he was sure he could snap it, break it. Or at the very least, give a pain so bad that the man wouldn't be able to move for hours.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop! Please! I'm sorry, argh!" Screaming, he begged and pleaded as tears foolishly ran down his face. Lucas loosened the pressure, waiting expectantly.

"I-I, everybody has a Side-story. If a Character kills the prince, or Cinderella  we can steal their role! We can take their power, while also keeping our... our own!"

"Did I look like I was an easy target?" wondered Lucas, feeling somewhat offended.

In fact, how did they know where he was to begin with, when he was hiding under a cloak? How did they know his role? Since he was wondering, he asked that very question.

"I don't know! I, well, um, somebody told me! They, they whispered into my ear as I was walking that it was you! And.. And honestly." The man squeezed his eyes closed, shaking. "You do look handsome!"

"...want to say that again?"

"No!"

"....." Lucas took a deep breath in, speechless. What sort of nonsense was this man speaking? "Do I look stupid to you?"

"No! No, no I'm telling the truth!"

Lucas frowned, narrowing his eyes as the person squirmed under his weight.

He didn't remember the story of Cinderella; it wasn't a major Story in the novel he wrote. It was only briefly mentioned to be one of the rare Stories that's objective isn't related to death, nor does the consequence of failing lead to punishment.

And yet, it was one that had the largest amount of death recorded.

"Was the voice that spoke to you male or female?"

"Female!"

"Young? Old?"

"Young!"

Did that voice belong to the pair of eyes following him everywhere he goes? He didn't know, and there was still no way for him to find out. As he thought that, a giggle sounded around the corner and he snapped his head in the direction, staring deeply at the blank streets.

There was nobody there.

Lucas scowled, frustrated. In fact, the temporary titles given out weren't limited. Although the roles of Cinderella and the prince may be obvious, there are many, many possible titles.

The baker's daughter. A citizen. Perhaps even a thief or a beggar.

The damn title really was more of a curse than a blessing. He scowled at the skies once again about his bad luck, before glancing down at the man who lies helplessly, pressing against the ground.

Collecting the glass slippers was his priority—the sooner he left, the sooner he could finish the task.

Because Lucas Silvius realized something.

A thing so important and essential, he needed to fix it. He crushed his knee down, grinding the bone until it snapped and the man let out a loud, gutted scream that filled the air.

It didn't matter when nobody would care, no allies would avenge him.

Everybody was alone in the populated reality.

He dropped a last glance before walking off calmly. To prove that he wasn't to be messed with, a minor scene had to be made. He strolled away quickly, hastily looking around again for the glass slippers.

The hero of his story fell to death before the arrogant throne.

If his story had come to life, that meant the protagonist was well and existing. Lucas wasn't one to worry, typically, when that man was powerful enough to survive on his own.

Incredible and full of justice, a quiet hero that lurked in the shadows and held out a hand to the helpless and the weak.

He knew that saviour well—too well. Because the particular man was inspired by somebody who marked their existence in Lucas' mind, a long time ago.

Kane Silvius.

His older brother.