ITITPS 7

Chapter : 7

There are times when that happens.

People who suffer mental trauma from prolonged abuse and torture, their innate magic circuits left with permanent wounds.

Magic circuits, born imprinted onto the soul, do not break easily—but once they crack, the damage grows uncontrollably.

At first, their condition only worsens when touched by dense mana.
But eventually, even the faint mana floating in the air brings unbearable pain.

And there is not a single place in this world free of mana.
So once you fall ill, you live only because you cannot die.

Just imagining it made Serena’s chest tighten. She shut her mouth.

“…Is it serious?”

Perhaps sensing the shift in mood, Illya’s voice sank.

He seemed desperate for Serena to reassure him that Asha would be fine, but all she had to offer were uncertain assumptions.

If she spoke it aloud, it might become reality—that fear held her back. Serena chose silence.

“I can’t make a firm judgment.”

“Then—”

“As soon as dawn breaks, I plan to visit the temple and ask for an examination. She’d have to go anyway now that she’s the wielder of the Holy Sword.”

“I understand.”

Illya nodded obediently. Worry still poured off him, but there was nothing they could do.

Even after the conversation ended, Serena watched Illya wander the 200th floor.

Had he not been there, they might have failed to destroy the Crack—and failed to protect Asha.

At first she simply felt grateful, overwhelmed even, but curiosity suddenly surged.

“Grand Duke Zakharov. What are you to Anastasia?”

Illya froze mid-step. A brief silence settled between them.

Serena did not rush him. She focused instead on laying Asha flat on the bed.

By the time she covered Asha with a soft blanket and placed a cool wet cloth on her feverish forehead, the answer came.

“…Someone I care for.”

At first the voice was tiny. After a bit of hesitation, he spoke again—firmly, with certainty.

“Someone I love.”

Illya checked on Asha several more times before finally leaving.

Serena polished her rifle until the soot gleamed clean, then showered in the 200th-floor bath. The clock already read 3 a.m.

“Lady Serena, there is something I wish to say.”

“What is it?”

Adel handed her a dry towel. Serena shook out her wet hair and looked at him.

“Earlier, I asked Lady Anastasia about her relationship with His Grace.”

A deeply interesting subject indeed. Seeing her tired eyes brighten, Adel hurried to add:

“She didn’t seem to know him at all. Isn’t that strange? For His Grace to act like that toward someone he’s just met?”

“…He was acting oddly.”

Serena’s hand paused mid-motion.

She recalled the look in the Grand Duke’s eyes. That strange heat and urgency—and above all, the words he had spoken.

One side was meeting him for the first time, while the other already loved her. Did that make any sense?

Stranger still, Serena hadn’t found it strange in the moment.

Grand Duke Zakharov loves the Hero Anastasia.

Or rather—Illya loves Asha.

The sentence felt completely natural. Perhaps it had something to do with her recent dreams of Asha.

“I see. For now, return to your quarters, Adel. We’ll head for the temple once Anastasia wakes. Prepare travel clothes.”

“Yes.”

After sending Adel away, Serena sank into thought and switched on the machine beside the bed.

Hot air from the torso-sized dryer swept through her thick hair.

Though the machine roared loudly, Asha remained unconscious, unmoving.

Her breathing was so faint that if not for the slight rise and fall of her chest, one could think her dead.

“Anastasia.”

No response. Serena switched off the dryer and quietly sat beside her.

She replaced the cloth on Asha’s forehead. Droplets fell across the white sheets, dampening strands of pink hair like scattered petals.

Pale face bathed in blue moonlight—a dreamlike sight.

What a strange feeling.

So frail she seemed ready to disappear. Same face as the strong hero in her memories, and yet clearly different.

Perhaps the Hero had been suffering like this all along—and she simply hadn’t known. That thought tangled her heart.

Serena sighed, troubled.

If that were true—what should she do?

I woke from a deep nap, feeling utterly refreshed. Even the chest pain that usually greeted me upon waking was gone.

Best condition ever! I stretched, and Flan fluttered over.

—Master, it’s time for lunch. What shall I prepare?

“A simple hamburger.”

I headed to the living room, where ready-made food finished cooking automatically.

I know instant meals aren’t good nutrition, but I’ve got the palate of a kid—they taste better.

Fries and cola disappeared in seconds. Afterward, I returned to my room, finished some chores, and saw my capsule light turn green.

Connection available.

I sat down, and Flan adjusted the system and closed the lid.

Like curling up inside a soft, warm cave—comfort wrapped around me.

I recalled all the community panic posts. Worried I might be locked out too—but no problem.

[Verifying user.]

[Identity confirmed.]

[Logging into ‘Les Ondes Vertes.’]

I opened my eyes. Since I logged out after slicing a demon, it should be pitch-black night.

—Except it wasn’t.

Instead of standing, I found myself lying in bed. As I pushed myself up, a wet cloth slipped off my forehead.

‘…Why?’

Les Ondes Vertes is a single-player game.

With no online component, the world is for one player only. The moment the protagonist leaves, time should freeze.

Still stunned, staring at my palms—when the door burst open.

Serena, carrying a large basin, saw me and her eyes flew wide.

“Anastasia!”

Water splashed across the carpet, staining it dark. Serena ran to me without a glance at the mess.

“You’re awake. Thank the heavens… truly.”

She hugged me tightly. She tried to appear composed, but her voice trembled.

I wanted to hug her back and reassure her—but first, I needed answers.

“Serena… how long was I asleep?”

“Two days.”

I had been logged out for roughly eight hours. Longer than usual due to oversleeping.

That made the math check out—game time is set to run four times faster than reality.

Thirty-two hours—one day plus half.

‘I logged out… and the game kept running.’

A cold chill slid down my spine.

[Chapter 3 – The Prophesied Hero]

Separate from my panic, the game marched straight into the next chapter.

I opened my eyes to find myself with Serena in her reception room—the 196th floor.

“Asha, are you well?”

Seeing Illya casually in the Mage Tower made me give up thinking.

If I chased every inconsistency, my brain would implode.

A game is a game. I might as well enjoy the chaos.

[(Remain silent)]
[Um… who are you?]
[Calling me by a nickname on first meeting is rather rude.]

I nearly chose Option 3—always pick the fun choice—but it didn’t fit the current run.

A wounded former slave, yet still fighting the demons in the name of justice.

God, what a badass backstory. Even I was swooning.

Right. This time—Option 1.

“….”

My avatar clamped her mouth shut and rolled her eyes. With that model, it was honestly cute.

[Illya’s affection +10]
[Congratulations! You are the first in the world to achieve OVER-STAT affection!]

“Pfft!”

Pardon me—I made a weird noise from sheer shock. I covered my mouth quickly.

Affection over-stat was self-explanatory, but I opened Illya’s status just in case.

[Name: Illya Yuriana Zakharov]
[Affection: 110]

‘Have the devs lost their minds?’

Affection caps at 100. Always has.

I could understand adding expansions that push limits—but 110 in CHAPTER 3, on our first conversation?

What kind of dating sim gives you 100 affection as a starter bonus?
Is this a scam? False advertising?!

Do they think I didn’t pour money into this game?!

“Asha. If you’re unwell, we don’t need to rush. The temple will wait…”

Seeing me wobble from mental damage, Serena fretted. We were already a day behind the intended visit—another delay would trouble her too.

I took a deep breath, slapped my cheeks mentally, and logic returned.

Actually… affection over-stat might be brilliant.

Not pointless numbers—but deeper emotional payoff from romance routes?
Higher difficulty, greater reward?
That’s not a bug—that’s GOTY material.

How high can affection go now?

[I’d like to rest today.]
[I’m fine.]

Testing could wait. For now, I spoke to Serena.

“I’m fine. Really.”

[Serena’s affection +3]
[Illya’s affection +5]

My avatar’s hand trembled. Guess the route theme right now was “fake smile while dying inside.”

Serena and Illya’s faces both twisted into unreadable expressions.

“Asha, you—”

Illya’s deep voice echoed across the hall, gaze burning.

He reached out toward me—Serena blocked him.

“Your Grace. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Ah.”

Illya blinked. The dazed look vanished, replaced by his cool, impassive mask.

“My apologies.”

“N-no, it’s okay.”

[Illya’s affection +5]

Seriously, it felt like every breath I took made the man’s affection soar.

I stared at him, ice-cold.

Illya… I’m disappointed.
You’re that easy a man?