Chapter 1: The Princess With Negative Favorability

I’m the only princess of Aldermere. Lucky me, right? Not that it’s all it’s cracked up to be.

Everyone in the kingdom knows my father, the king, can’t stand me—hell, he downright despises me. People whisper about it behind closed doors. Doesn’t matter. The truth always leaks out—like a draft through an old window.

The exiled prince trying to win me over thinks he’s stumbled onto my soft spot. Like he’s cracked some secret code. He wants to play the white knight, swoop in, and sweep me off my feet. But poor guy—my father might hate me down to the bone, but weirdly enough, he still values me more than his own life.

"Your Highness, are you all right?" The voice that cut through my swirling panic was clear, gentle, and oddly steady against the mess around me—blood everywhere, bodies twisted at angles that made my stomach turn. I shrank deeper into my fox-fur cloak, clutching it tight, and looked up at the stranger. He had a handsome, refined face—the kind you’d see in a fancy portrait over some rich guy’s fireplace.

He wore delicate brocade slippers—well, they used to be delicate. Now they were splattered with blood. The embroidered peonies looked like they were blooming even redder. My brain stuttered at the sight—those slippers were probably worth more than most people’s lives, and now they were ruined.

The metallic tang in the air made me gag. My stomach twisted—like I’d swallowed nails.

Terrified, I blurted, "Who are you? How do you know I’m the princess?" My voice came out thin, almost childlike. I was aiming for steady, but it just wasn’t happening.

The stranger sheathed his sword with a flick that said he’d done it a hundred times before and offered a reassuring smile. "Your Highness, my name is Tristan Valemont. Don’t worry, I’ve already taken care of the bandits…"

Tristan Valemont? The name rang a bell—deep in the back of my mind.

I racked my brain—Tristan Valemont… Wasn’t he the exiled prince, the one Aldermere took as a hostage after we, well, crushed Carroway fourteen years ago? That war—yeah, the one nobody lets you forget.

No wonder he recognized me. You don’t forget a past like that.

I gave him a graceful curtsy, years of etiquette drilled into me kicking in automatically, and thanked him as sincerely as I could manage. "Thank you, Lord Tristan, for saving me."

[System, how’s her favorability toward me? Did it go up?] An excited male voice echoed in my mind—Tristan’s, eager, almost boyish, but with a jittery edge that made me want to laugh. Or run.

A cold, mechanical voice replied, flat as an automated voice message: [Sorry, Host. Princess Evelyn Ashcombe’s favorability toward you is still 0.]

A flicker of disbelief crossed Tristan’s gentle, smiling eyes, but he kept his expression calm. Still, I could almost hear him screaming inside his head: [No way! Your data must be wrong! Saving a princess should be the ultimate move, especially for a girl who’s grown up unloved and sheltered. How can it be 0?]

The system didn’t even bother arguing, just yanked up the stats like a bored DMV clerk:

[Host name: Tristan Valemont]

[Gender: Male]

[Previous identity: City hall office clerk]

[Target: Evelyn Ashcombe]

[Favorability: 0]

[Progress: 0%]

I got what favorability meant, but strategy? And what in the world is a city hall office clerk? A city hall clerk? What even is that? Sounds like a bland bureaucrat title.

I was lost, but I kept my face blank. Best not to show confusion in front of strangers—especially ones carrying swords.

Tristan kept checking, over and over, until it finally sank in—my favorability was really stuck at zero. The poor guy looked like someone had just yanked the rug out from under him.

He looked at me again. The emotion and shyness in my eyes weren’t fake. On the surface, I looked deeply grateful to this so-called hero who’d saved me—like I was about to swoon.

Tristan: "…"

But—

[Favorability: -1]

[Favorability: -5]

[Favorability: -10]

…

The system glitched: [Host, what did you do? Evelyn Ashcombe’s favorability toward you is already -50! If it hits -100, you’ll be erased!]

Tristan was dumbfounded, his calm expression collapsing into pure panic: [I didn’t do anything! I just said I’d escort her back to the palace.]

Favorability stopped at -88, hanging on by a thread—like a car skidding on black ice.

Tristan forced a smile, lips trembling. "Your Highness, you…"

[Is this princess crazy? What did I do to offend her? I just saved her, but she’s tanking my favorability like I kicked her dog. This ungrateful, vicious woman…]

[Favorability -11]

[Total favorability: -99]

System: [...]

Tristan: [...]

Facing death, even his inner voice sputtered out and died.

I watched his pale, helpless face with wicked amusement. Outwardly, I kept my expression sweet and innocent, like I hadn’t noticed a thing. "Thank you, Lord Tristan."

After all, I’d finally come across such an interesting "toy"—how could I let him disappear so soon? The thrill of something new, something unpredictable, was just too delicious to give up.