I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 471: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [13] A Nearly Good Princess



After what felt like an eternity, our procession of carriages finally reached the gates of the castle. Its imposing structure loomed before us, but it was not the majestic grandeur I had imagined for an Elven castle. Instead, it exuded an air of ostentation, designed not to inspire awe but to flaunt wealth and power. The same could be said for the city itself in fact.

As we arrived, I dismounted from my horse. I turned to help the boy from descending. His small frame trembled as he descended, his wide eyes darting around the scene with fear. "What's your name?" I asked gently, crouching to his level so he could see my face clearly. "Ron..." He mumbled. Tears welled in his eyes, and his small hands clenched tightly at his sides.

He was only six years old. His fear was etched into every line of his face.

That wasn't the expression a child should make.

"Where are your parents?" I asked hesitantly, though a sinking feeling told me the answer before he spoke.

The question was a mistake. His small body began to shake, and tears streamed down his face as he rubbed at his eyes.

"T-They killed my father...they took my mother away."

I didn't need to ask to know what had likely become of his mother. There was a low probability of seeing her again and good health.

I wanted to ask him more, to glean any information that might lead me to his mother in the hope of sending him back to her but I knew pressing him further would only deepen his trauma.

"Stay still, Ron," I said softly, reaching for the collar encircling his neck.

Enslaving people was abhorrent enough, but to subject a child to such a fate? They were really

scum.

As my fingers brushed the collar, white sand began to swirl at my fingertips. In moments, the collar disintegrated into nothingness, vanishing as if it had never existed. But the red, raw mark it left behind remained. I couldn't do anything against that unfortunately.

"You removed the collar?" Freya's voice drew my attention. She had descended from her carriage and now stood nearby, her gaze fixed on the boy.

"I did," I replied curtly. "It's not as if he can run away from me."

Freya's lips curved into a small smile, her golden eyes scanning me. "There's no need to hide your emotions. I can sense your hate for enslavement. Perhaps you took this child simply to save him?"

I didn't respond, but I didn't deny her words either. Let her draw her own conclusions. What caught me, however, was her demeanor. Unlike the other High Elves, Freya didn't exude the same haughty arrogance. She lacked the overt racism that seemed to define her peers. It was...unexpected. I had steeled myself for someone worse than Alvara, yet Freya's calm, almost empathetic presence caught me off guard.

Meanwhile, the other High Elves made no attempt to hide their disdain. Their sharp glares bore into me, their expressions twisted with anger and disbelief. To them, my revulsion was a direct insult to their culture.

They must have thought I was peculiar perhaps even suspicious. Despite my appearance as a High Elf, I clearly didn't fit their expectations.

As we crossed into the grandiose expanse of the castle grounds, Ron clung tightly to my side, his small hand gripping my sleeve like it was his only lifeline. His wide eyes darted around nervously, trying to take in the imposing sights without breaking into tears again.

"Big broth-"

Before he could finish, I swiftly pressed a hand over his mouth, crouching slightly to meet his gaze. "Call me Loki from now on," I said, with a serious face. His frightened nod was enough.

At this point, revealing my true identity as a man would spell disaster. It wasn't just a matter of reputation—it could derail everything. For now, blending in as best as possible was my safest course of action.

The castle itself was an imposing structure of pale marble, adorned with carvings and shimmering runes that seemed to glow faintly in the waning light. The grandeur of it all would've been awe-inspiring if I didn't see through the ostentatious facade. Yet, despite its grandeur, my arrival here-something that should have been impossible under normal circumstances-felt almost too easy.

The guards stationed around the perimeter stiffened as we approached. Freya's presence alone was enough to keep them in line, though a few couldn't mask their distrust, their suspicious glares boring into me. I considered the idea of threatening her to secure my position, but I dismissed it just as quickly. Freya wasn't someone to be underestimated. As a twin soul of a Goddess, any misstep with her could prove fatal. Carefulness was key.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Inside, the main hall unfolded in all its extravagance. Elven maids stood in perfect formation, bowing deeply as Freya entered. All of them had something like a golden rune engraved on their forehead but I didn't pay it any mind.

"Welcome back, Your Highness," they greeted in unison.

Freya swept her gaze over them, and then gestured toward me. "Prepare a fitting guest room near my suite for her."

The maids turned to look at me, their expressions shifting from polite neutrality to wide- eyed astonishment.

"Beautiful..." One of them murmured under her breath.

A grimace appeared on my face but I quickly suppressed it.

"As for the boy," Freya continued and looked at me. "Shall I arrange a separate room for

him?"

"No need," I shook my head. "He'll stay with me."

Freya raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Suit yourself. Join me once you're ready," she said before turning on her heel, her two maids trailing behind her.

One of the remaining maids stepped forward toward me "This way, Milady," she said, motioning for me to follow.

As I was led up the grand staircase, I made a point of studying my surroundings. Every detail mattered the layout of corridors, the placement of doors, the subtle markings on the walls. If my mother was being held here, it wouldn't be in one of these luxurious upper rooms. Logic dictated that she'd be in the dungeons or some other concealed area below ground.

When we arrived at the room assigned to me, the maid stepped inside ahead of me and immediately began preparing a bath. The space was opulent, with walls adorned in silken tapestries. But my focus wasn't on the decor. I watched the maid as she worked, her neutral expression giving nothing away.

Finally, she turned to me, gesturing toward the steaming bath she'd prepared. "Your bath is ready, Milady."

"I'll manage on my own," I said, stepping forward to dismiss her.

She inclined her head. "As you wish, Milady." From a nearby chest, she retrieved a container and held it out to me. "Here are clothes prepared for you."

I opened the container, only to find garments befitting an Elven noblewoman-flowing silks and embroidered dresses. Lovely, no doubt, but entirely impractical. I frowned, holding up a particularly frilly piece.

"I'll need men's clothes," I said, doing my best to sound casual. "I'd have a hard time protecting the Princess in a skirt."

The maid blinked, her eyes widening slightly as understanding dawned. "Indeed. My apologies, Milady. I'll fetch appropriate attire immediately."

As she hurried off, I exhaled, relieved to have avoided that particular embarrassment.

I quickly took a bath, asking Ron to keep watch outside for me, just in case some maids decided to intrude. Once I was done, I dressed in the elven men's clothing I had chosen earlier. I made sure to pick something that wasn't too tight-a woman as flat as me wouldn't be believable, and it would only draw unnecessary attention. Instead, I opted for a slightly looser outfit, layering it carefully to hide my chest and maintain the illusion.

Standing in front of the mirror, I took a moment to examine my reflection. Despite my best efforts, I still looked undeniably feminine, though the clothes gave me a tomboyish edge. Satisfied enough, I tucked Bryelle's pendant beneath my layers and turned to Ron, who was

sitting on the bed.

"Feel free to take a shower and rest here while I'm gone. I'll ask a maid to bring you some

food," I said.

"When will you be back?" Ron asked, scared. He clearly didn't like being surrounded by High Elves with me being the only exception.

"I'm just going to speak to the Princess. Don't worry," I replied, offering him a calm smile

before leaving the room.

Once outside, I called for a maid to guide me to Princess Freya. She informed me that the Princess was in the dining hall, and I followed her there. As I entered, I couldn't help but pause, slightly taken aback by Freya's appearance. She had clearly bathed as well, her long hair shining with a silky sheen. She was dressed in more casual attire, though for a royal, 'casual' still meant an exquisite gown. The absence of her earlier formal weight made her seem more approachable yet no less stunning.

For a moment, I was reminded of just how beautiful she was. But fortunately, having spent so much time around Cleenah, I had built up an immunity to overwhelming beauty-or so I liked to think.

"Oh, you're here. I've been waiting for you, Loki," Freya greeted me with a smile before her golden eyes scanned my outfit. "These clothes suit you. You're quite tall for a woman, which

makes them work even better, I suppose."

"Thank you," I replied simply.

Freya tilted her head slightly, her expression playful. "And what about me, Loki? Shouldn't

you compliment me? You are my guard, after all. Have you already forgotten your duties?"

I blinked, caught off guard by her question, but quickly recovered. "I didn't think there was any need to praise you, Your Highness. You are already perfect."

"Oh-"Freya's eyes narrowed slightly, a sly smile curving her lips.

Something about her demeanor made me uneasy. I decided to take my seat across from her without further comment. As the maids began serving our meal, I couldn't shake the sensation of Freya's gaze fixed on me. Anyone else might have fainted from the sheer pressure of being observed so intently by the High Elf Princess, but for me, it was far from

pleasant.

Did she poison the food? No, that didn't make sense. Why would she go through the trouble of

asking me to become her guard only to kill me? Maybe I was just overthinking...

"Loki," she finally called out to me.

"Yes, Your Highness?" I replied, meeting her gaze.

Freya's sweet smile widened, as she rested her hand on her cheek.

"What do you think about becoming my slave?"