He sat in front of the hospital, its walls constructed from weathered stone. The architecture blended Victorian grandeur with medieval austerity, as though someone had haphazardly stacked buildings together and prayed they'd harmonize.
The structures loomed tightly around the streets, leaving only the main thoroughfare and a few narrow alleys for passage. John watched a horse-drawn wagon clatter past, its wheels kicking up dust. The air hung thick with a haze of light smoke, drifting from the distant industrial quarter's chimneys.
Lmemore—the capital of the Eyre Empire.
The city sprawled across land carved by the Ramos River, its waters slicing through the urban labyrinth. This was the most advanced region on the continent, its survival tethered to the river's lifeblood. John's gaze drifted to the waterway, where barges and ships glided like clockwork. A vessel passed by, its sails billowing like pale ghosts against the sky, the wooden hull cleaving through the current with rhythmic precision. Watching it felt almost magical, a fleeting reminder of the world's hidden poetry.
"Quite beautiful, right?"
"Yeah," John agreed. Internally, though, his mind churned with worries about surviving in this unfamiliar world.
"It's the only thing this city got right. Well, the food's decent too," the maid said, standing with her hands clasped in front of her. She gazed down at John, who leaned against the stone wall to watch the ship glide further down the river.
"So, when are you going to leave?"
"The lord hasn't dismissed me yet."
That was troublesome.
John was certain that in the original story, Reeva had been dumped onto the streets penniless, accompanied only by a lowly servant. But now, the plot was shifting—and that shift could prove disastrous for him.
His greatest weapon at that moment was his foreknowledge of future events. The more he altered the story, the less he knew, and the higher the chance he'd be killed.
The world of Divine Twig was not to be underestimated. It teemed with monsters and apocalyptic threats lurking around every corner… and he had no intention of facing any of them.
"What is your job?"
"To serve the young master."
"Name?"
"Hilda."
John gazed at the ship drifting down the river as he began to strategize his next move. This world was the setting of The Legend of Divine Twig, a straightforward power fantasy novel. The entire first act had played out within Lmemore's walls, and much of it centered on the Lmemore Royal Academy.
The Academy housed students from all walks of life—most of noble blood, others commoners with little innate power but exceptional skill. It also ran a rigorous program for training power users, though admission was ruthlessly competitive.
They were called Mystics,
Intermingled with ordinary students who followed separate schedules. The narrative had centered on Klad and the four students he'd bonded with there.
The story was still in its early stages, especially since Reeva had been beaten so brutally. At this point, the protagonist was only moderately powerful. As long as John remained in the academy, keeping tabs on Klad would have been simple.
However, that would only have happened if John had still been enrolled. While the academy had severely punished him for vandalizing school property, the Duke ultimately expelled him.
Getting disowned from the house Antores was kind of a big problem. As a result, his family would not support him and cover his tuition, moreover, he lacks the mystic power to maintain his status as a mystic student.
He'd been left with just a hundred stac and a maidservant.
"What circle are you?" he asked.
"Third."
Oh, wow… he thought.
A mystic user's power was measured by their circle, and a third-circle mystic was unusually strong for a maidservant. The Duke hadn't skimped on protecting his son. Most households would've bankrupted themselves to employ a third-circle mystic, yet here one stood, obediently at John's command. He intended to use her—thoroughly.
Refocusing, John drafted a mental checklist for survival: earn money and monitor the protagonist. Simple enough, in theory.
He hadn't been particularly interested in gaining power… The power system of the Divine Twig novel had been a pain to upgrade, and reaching godhood from his current starting point seemed impossible.
In the original story, the only way to repair his shattered mystic circle had been to consume a rare high-tier potion. He'd known the name of the village where it was hidden, but not its location. That village first appeared in the second arc, when Klad battled a demon cult and stumbled upon it during his travels.
The odds of John securing that potion were slimmer than being struck by lightning. He needed another path.
However, there was an alternative: forming a Heretic Circle. This world recognized two foundations of mystic power: Circles and Stars. Circles were stable but rigid, while Stars offered explosive growth at the cost of brutal side effects. Stars could even be fueled by human blood to accelerate advancement… but at a dire moral price.
Forming a Star Foundation carried the risk of being hunted down and burned alive by the Sun Church. The zealots of the Sun Torch controlled eighty percent of the continent, their influence inescapable. Still, that gamble felt far safer than relying on stumbling across a village whose name he didn't even know.
Or he could do nothing. Let the story unfold as written. After all, he was just an extra—a background character whose absence wouldn't derail the plot. He could vanish into obscurity, live comfortably off his 100 stac, and intervene only if the protagonist's path veered toward catastrophe…
That would work… right?
Yet a nagging doubt lingered. The final chapter of the novel had been a blank page, and the chapter before it depicted Klad struggling to hold the world aloft. There was a sliver of possibility that Klad had failed—that the world had ended. But dwelling on apocalyptic what-ifs was pointless for now.
At the moment was the time to enjoy being in the world. John got up from watching the boat and walked toward a city. The maid followed right behind without saying a word. The sound of passersby stepping on the stone road made for a chaotic symphony that is oddly soothing to listen to.
After they had walked past dozens of buildings and observed the bustling crowds, the silence between the maid and her master finally broke.
"Where are we going, master?" she asked.
"To enjoy some food," he replied, a faint smile playing on his lips.