When Lea was walking through the palace, she saw that the servants were very busy running around. They were in quite a frenzy. She wondered what this was about, until she remembered there was going to be a ball in the next few days. That must be why they were suddenly very active.
Lea stopped one of them in their track. She had been wandering around for a while and still hadn't stumbled upon Mason. She had even gone to his room, but he wasn't there. She thought it best just to ask someone, that way her search would go a bit faster.
"Excuse me," Lea said. "But could you tell me were head butler Mason is?"
"Miss King," the woman servant said politely. "He could be anywhere in the palace, making sure everybody is doing their tasks to perfection. The funeral has made the whole staff tense."
Lea furrowed her brows. "Funeral?"
"Oh," the servant girl said in surprise. "You haven't heard yet? Well, I suppose young mas- I mean President William Wright hasn't had the time yet to inform you."
President William Wright? A funeral? What was going on? Lea had a vague idea forming in her head, but it was very unlikely. Nothing of the sort had happened in the original plot, but then again, her coming here also wasn't in the plot.
"Could you tell me then what has happened?"
"Of course, miss King. A tragic accident has occurred, and it saddens me to say that President Wayne Wright has died today."
She had thought right. William's father had left this world. But how did that happen? It couldn't be her presence here, right? Had she unwillingly caused his death? Was this what was called the Butterfly effect?
"Thank you for telling me," Lea said. "I won't hold you up any longer."
The woman left, while Lea was calling Dwyl in her mind.
[Dwyl: What is it, Lea?]
[I hear the president has died?! And that you are now the president? How did that happen?]
[Dwyl: Well, at a certain point in life, your body will give out on you. Either by old age or sickness, or by an external factor. When your body gives out on you, you cease to live, and you die. When that thing happens to a self-proclaimed president in a non-democratic society their title can go to anybody, probably one of their children. Does that explain it to you?]
If Dwyl were standing right next to Lea, Lea wasn't sure if she could resist the temptation to strangle him.
[What happened?] Lea asked again. [I mean specifically, as in what exactly caused his death. This isn't my fault, right? I mean, my coming here didn't cause him to die before his time, right?]
[Dwyl: Well, Lea. To be exact he was killed by a paperweight.]
[What do you mean? Did he fall on a paperweight? The maid that told me did say it was a tragic accident. Being killed by falling on a paperweight, does sound kind of tragic.]
Dwyl laughed. [No, he didn't fall on it. More like, the paperweight was in my hand, and I swung it at him.]
Lea's heartbeat skipped a step. [What?]
[Dwyl: You heard me. I killed this body's father.]
Lea felt a chill all over. Dwyl murdered somebody. She should have seen this coming. Dwyl had chosen this world for itself. He had told her he wanted to do things without consequence, that he wanted to be somebody that could be evil without a problem. Dwyl had told her, it would show her how to play a villain.
Lea had known Dwyl didn't attach much importance to the life and death of people. She had felt Dwyl was capable of murder. She had even felt that after all this worldhopping Dwyl would have changed her. But for some reason, she had forgotten. No, not some reason. It was Dwyl's cuteness when obviously in love. How could someone so cute, and handsome be so murderous? So dangerous?
Lea felt a frog in her throat. [Why?]
[Dwyl: Well, he knew about Mason being a Criminal. He would've interrogated and executed him. The plot would've been completely ruined.]
Lea let out a breath of relief. He did it for a reason. That was good. At least he didn't do it for the fun of it. That was something. Lea knew she shouldn't be relieved because of something like that, because murder was still murder no matter how you framed it, but she was. Unfortunately, the relief didn't make her feel better for long, because immediately after she felt guilty for being relieved. A man had died! A bad man, but still.
[Since when do you care about the plot?] she asked, still trying to figure out her feelings about the whole killing thing.
[I have always cared about the plot!] Dwyl defended himself.
[Really?]
[Dwyl: Yes, really. Why else do you think I even bothered to tell you about your character settings? It's because I don't want to change Writer's masterpieces too much. Maybe they'll get mad at me.]
That did make sense. With how smitten Dwyl was with Writer, it wouldn't surprise her if he had told the truth. [I'll believe you, mister president. But that doesn't mean I agree with you murdering people. I am sure there would've been a way to preserve the original plot without smashing someone's head in. If you had wouldn't Writer have been even more happy? You killed one of his characters!]
[Dwyl: First of all, don't call me mister president. I hate it. I'm already swamped with work. I don't like it. I assure you, I'm already regretting my rash decision, but it would've been even more troublesome finding a way that didn't require me killing somebody. Troublesome and almost impossible. And yes, maybe it would've pleased Writer more, but I only had a couple of seconds to decide! I chose the safest option. And about killing one of his characters… Writer knows me, they know my family. They knew what they were getting into. Besides, if they really don't like the changes we bring forth, they can always call upon other systems to fix them, but I don't see Writer doing that.]
[I am your host! You should've consulted me first.] Lea said.
[Dwyl: I am under no such obligation. And haven't you heard what I said? My killing Wayne Wright isn't necessarily permanent! Someone can come and rewrite it!]
[I'm sorry, Dwyl, but this doesn't feel like a stupid story. I feel and see everything exactly as if this were the world in which I was born. Everybody here, looks and feels as real as anybody in my reality. Killing someone here is real. It is real to me, real to them. It is happening now. Who cares if someone can come and change it later in the future?]
[Dwyl: You are too sensitive, Lea. You should work on that.]
[And you are too immoral!]
[Dwyl: I am not. I have morals. I protect the ones I love, which is what I did by killing the president. How is that wrong?]
[I am done talking to you.] Lea disrupted their conversation and went back to searching Mason. Hopefully he would distract her from thinking too much about Dwyl letting that paperweight fall onto the president's head.