The first thing Aizen learned after reincarnating into this cursed otome game world was that toddlers have terrible bladder control.
"Aizen! Stop daydreaming and fetch Lady Stephanie's afternoon tea!" barked the head butler, his mustache quivering like an angry caterpillar.
"Right, right. Her Highness's sacred chamomile blend. Wouldn't want her to throw another tantrum," Aizen muttered, shuffling across the opulent marble floor of the Redwyne estate. At five years old, his legs were comically short, his hands barely large enough to grip the silver tray. Ah, the glamorous life of a mob character, he thought dryly.
Two weeks ago, Aizen had been a 27-year-old office drone in Tokyo, blissfully ignorant of terms like "capture targets" and "affection points." Then a truck (cliché, yes) sent him spiraling into Arcana Regalia, a magical dating sim his sister had obsessed over. Now, he was a nameless orphan servant in the household of Stephanie Redwyne—the game's canonical villainess, destined to be exiled for bullying the protagonist.
His only consolation? A sentient grimoire named Vermis, currently masquerading as a picture book in the nursery.
"Master, your vitals indicate elevated stress levels. Would you like me to incinerate the head butler?" Vermis's voice echoed telepathically, its tone eerily cheerful.
"No arson before lunch," Aizen shot back, balancing the teacup with the desperation of a Jenga champion. "But remind me why I'm playing butler to a future tyrant?"
"Your soul's mana signature bonded with mine during your reincarnation. Our contract requires you to 'alter the game's tragic结局 (ending).' My algorithms suggest proximity to key characters maximizes survival odds by 12.7%."
"Algorithms, huh? You're just a gossipy magic book with a pyromaniac streak."
Stephanie's playroom was a pastel nightmare of enchanted dolls and floating glitter. The four-year-old villainess sat atop a plush unicorn, her rose-gold curls cascading over a frilly lavender dress. She pointed a wand at a trembling maid. "You! The scones were burnt! Do you want me to tell Mother?"
"L-Lady Stephanie, I'm so sorry! I'll bake a new batch—"
"Silence! You're fired!" The wand sparked ominously.
Ah, the classic 'tsundere tyrant' phase, Aizen mused. In the game, Stephanie's pettiness hid loneliness—her parents were always away "governing," leaving her with sycophantic servants. By the time the protagonist arrived at the academy, Stephanie's insecurities had curdled into cruelty.
Aizen clanked the tray onto a table. "Your tea, Lady Stephanie."
She whirled, her sapphire eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"
"Your new practice butler, my lady. Lord Redwyne assigned me this morning."
"Hmph! You're short. And your hair looks like a raven nested in it."
"Astute observations. I'll schedule a trim… right after I polish your 50 pairs of shoes."
Stephanie's nose scrunched. "You're weird. Why aren't you scared of me?"
"Fear is inefficient. I prefer strategic flattery." He bowed, nearly toppling forward. "For example: Your wandwork is riveting, but have you considered elemental variety? A lightning spell would make firings more… dramatic."
The maid gaped. Stephanie blinked, then giggled—a sound as bright and dangerous as shattered crystal. "You're funny! From now on, you're my personal servant! Fetch my grimoire; we're practicing explosions!"
Vermis, I've made a terrible mistake.
Three Months Later
Aizen slumped against the garden's oak tree, his tiny arms streaked with soot. Stephanie's "explosion practice" had graduated from burning dolls to vaporizing hedges.
"Master, your mana reserves are critically low," Vermis chimed. "Shall I drain the young mistress's lifeforce to recharge?"
"No draining aristocrats! We've talked about this."
Stephanie skipped over, clutching a charred plush dragon. "Aizen! Let's play Knights and Bandits! You'll be the bandit, and I'll capture you!"
"Hard pass. Last time, you 'captured' me in a chandelier chain."
"But I'll give you a reward!" She grinned, revealing a missing front tooth.
"Is the reward not being turned into a toad?"
"Better! I'll… I'll marry you when we grow up!"
Aizen choked. Ah. There it is. The first flag.
In Arcana Regalia, Stephanie's obsession with her fiancé (the game's icy third capture target) drove her to sabotage the protagonist. But now, her crosshairs were shifting… to him.
He forced a laugh. "Marriage? My lady, I'm a commoner. Your parents would hire assassins, not caterers."
"Then I'll make you a noble! Father gives titles to anyone I ask!" She stamped her foot, sparks dancing at her fingertips. "You're mine, Aizen! I won't let anyone else have you!"
Vermis, crisis alert.
"Analysis: The young mistress exhibits early signs of yandere fixation. Proposal: Acquire protective wards."
"Or maybe a restraining order?"
Stephanie grabbed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong. "Promise you'll stay! Promise, or I'll curse everyone but you!"
Aizen sighed. This was worse than his old boss's PowerPoint addiction.
"Fine. I promise." For now.
As Stephanie cheered, he glanced at the horizon, where the Redwyne Academy's spires glittered. In six years, the game's protagonist would enroll, and the story's gears would grind into motion.
But Aizen had already changed one thing: Stephanie's heart now orbited him, not some princely rival. Whether that would save her or doom them both… well, that was future Aizen's problem.