The Antagonist’s Narrator

The silence of the castle's stone corridors was broken by the faint sound of giggles, carrying an unexpected warmth through the otherwise cold and quiet halls. Arlon's footsteps slowed, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly as he tilted his head toward the source.

Hehehe— Pffft—

It wasn't often that laughter echoed within these walls, and the unfamiliarity of it drew him forward, his curiosity masked by his usual composed demeanor.

As he rounded the corner, the sight before him made him pause. Near one of the arched windows that overlooked the garden, Irish and Irien were crouched together, their delicate hands busily tying something. Their muffled giggles burst into laughter, bright and carefree, as if they had found a moment untouched by the weight of the castle's grandeur.

Arlon approached silently, and the twins turned at the sound of his measured footsteps.

"Lord Arlon!" Irish beamed, springing to her feet with an energy that seemed to brighten the corridor. Her dress swished lightly as she brushed it off, her expression alight with the same excitement she always carried, even though only a short time had passed since their last meeting.

Irien followed her sister's gaze and gave a polite, faint smile. "Good evening, Lord Arlon," she said softly, her voice steady yet carrying a hint of warmth.

Arlon's sharp eyes flicked past them, catching sight of a familiar black figure. He blinked. Sitting just behind the twins was Ace—except now, the cat was adorned with a thin red ribbon tied neatly around his neck. The ribbon was vivid, the color of fresh embers, and matched Ace's piercing crimson eyes almost perfectly.

"..."

Ace's feline expression was stoic, as if he were tolerating an unbearable weight, but his tail flicked lazily, betraying his composure.

Pffft-

"What… is this?" Arlon's tone was flat, though his brow arched slightly in a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement.

Irish clapped her hands together in delight. "Do you like it? Doesn't he look so handsome?"

Irien nodded, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "We thought it would suit him. It matches his eyes."

Arlon's gaze flicked to Ace, whose voice suddenly echoed in his mind, low and dry. "Before you say anything, noble Arlon, let me explain."

Arlon resisted the urge to smirk, keeping his expression neutral as Ace continued.

"When you abandoned me to those tiny monsters, they decided to 'bond' with me. First, there was the endless petting. Then, they brushed my fur—brushed, Arlon. Like I'm some sort of showpiece. And then…" Ace paused for dramatic effect. "…they decided I needed a 'gift.' And thus, this ribbon."

Arlon's lips twitched as Ace added, almost begrudgingly, "I'll admit, the color isn't terrible. But I'll deny that I said this if you repeat it."

Irish, oblivious to the exchange happening in Arlon's mind, crouched next to Ace and gently adjusted the ribbon. "He was so well-behaved while we tied it," she said with a grin. "He didn't even try to run away!"

Irien nodded, her smile faint but genuine. "He's… surprisingly cooperative for a cat."

Ace, sitting primly, shot Arlon a look that clearly translated to, "Surprisingly cooperative, my tail."

He's secretly liking it, Arlon thought, watching Ace flick his tail with feigned indifference. You should be grateful they didn't give you a collar instead.

Still, I've seen him endure far worse indignities. This might be his most tolerable defeat.

Arlon's attention shifted back to the twins. "Where's Eric?" he asked.

The bright energy in Irish's face dimmed slightly. "Miss Alice took him to retreat his wounds," she said, her voice softer.

Irien's gaze dropped momentarily, and she added quietly, "She said he might need some time to rest."

Arlon nodded, deciding not to press further. Miss Alice was meticulous, and if Eric was in her care, there was no need to worry for now.

"Is your meeting done?" Irish asked, her tone brightening again as she clasped her hands behind her back.

"Yes," Arlon replied simply, his voice calm.

Irish's face lit up, and she exchanged a quick glance with Irien. "Does that mean we can study now?"

Arlon didn't answer immediately. He hesitated, weighing the idea in his mind. After the tension of the meeting, the thought of diving into yet another task—even a relatively simple one like studying with the twins—felt like an unnecessary strain.

But before he could respond, Dimitri, who had been quietly trailing behind, stepped forward.

"I think it's an excellent idea," Dimitri said smoothly, his tone as calm and deliberate as ever.

Arlon glanced at him, brow raised slightly.

"You've completed your duties for the day, my lord," Dimitri continued, folding his hands behind his back.

"There's no better time to fulfill a promise to the young ladies. Besides…" He allowed a small, knowing smile to tug at the corner of his lips. "A moment of quiet study might do you some good after today's… excitement."

Irish practically bounced on the balls of her feet, her excitement barely contained. Irien, though more reserved, also looked up at Arlon with hopeful eyes.

Arlon sighed inwardly but gave a small nod. "Fine."

Irish clapped her hands together, her excitement spilling over. "Thank you, Lord Arlon!"

Irien's smile widened slightly, and she gave a soft, "Thank you."

Satisfied, Dimitri straightened and turned toward the hallway. "I'll prepare some snacks and refreshments," he said. "Enjoy your time, my lord."

With that, he exited the scene with quiet precision, leaving Arlon standing with the twins—and Ace, still primly seated with his ribbon.

Irish and Irien exchanged excited glances before looking back at Arlon, their energy infectious.

"Shall we go to the library?" Irish suggested.

Arlon glanced down at Ace, who flicked his tail as if to say, "Don't expect me to save you from this."

Arlon let out a quiet sigh and gestured for the twins to lead the way.

As they began walking, Irish chattered excitedly about what they could study, while Irien quietly suggested topics they could explore. Arlon walked a step behind them, his hands tucked behind his back, his expression unreadable.

But as he watched the twins' cheerful energy, a faint thought flickered in his mind. Perhaps this is the quiet I needed after all.

Creak—

The grand doors to the library creaked open, revealing rows of towering shelves brimming with books. The warm light from the chandeliers cast a golden glow over the polished wooden floors, giving the space an inviting yet reverent air.

Irish practically skipped ahead, her footsteps light against the floor, while Irien followed with her usual measured pace. Arlon trailed behind, his gaze sweeping the library as the faint scent of aged parchment and leather filled the air.

Ace, still adorned with his red ribbon, perched on Arlon's shoulder like a small sentinel, his tail flicking idly. He looked around, unimpressed. "If I fall asleep, don't blame me," his voice echoed dryly in Arlon's mind.

Irish stopped near one of the smaller tables, her eyes sparkling as she turned to Arlon. "We'll pick the books we want to study!" she declared, her excitement unmistakable. "And…" She hesitated briefly, then added with a grin, "Maybe a few others that we want to show you."

Irien nodded, stepping toward the nearest shelf. "It won't take long," she said softly, her fingers brushing over the spines of the books as she began to search.

Arlon simply nodded, taking a seat at the table they had chosen. The chair creaked slightly under his weight as he leaned back, his sharp eyes following the twins' movements.

tap-tap-tap

Irish darted between shelves, pulling out books with enthusiasm. "Oh, this one's really interesting!" she said, holding up a book with an ornately decorated cover.

"It's about the history of ancient castles. Did you know that some of them had secret tunnels that led outside the walls?"

Irien, nearby, selected a slimmer volume and glanced back at Arlon. "This one has strategies about managing estates," she said, her voice calm. "I thought it might be useful for you."

Together, they were like two halves of a whole—a storm and its calm eye. Irish's energy filled the room, while Irien's quieter, thoughtful approach kept everything balanced.

Arlon arched a brow but said nothing, watching as the twins each began to gather a growing pile of books.

Irish returned to the table first, setting down her armful of books with a satisfied sigh. She patted the top of the stack and grinned. "There's a lot to learn in these!"

Ace leapt from Arlon's shoulder onto the table, landing with the grace of someone entirely too comfortable with themselves. He sniffed at the pile of books, then sat back, curling his tail neatly around his paws.

"I hope you're ready for an exciting lecture on castle tunnels, noble Arlon," he quipped.

Arlon ignored him, his gaze shifting to Irien, who was placing her chosen books down with a quieter focus. Her stack was smaller, more organized, and included a mix of practical guides and personal favorites.

"This one," she said, brushing her hand over a dark leather-bound book, "is a story about a knight. Mother read it to us when we were younger." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "I thought you might like it."

Arlon's gaze lingered on the book for a moment before he nodded slightly. "I'll take a look."

Irish grinned as she grabbed one of the history books she had brought. "Okay! Let's start with something fun first," she said, flipping it open to a section about mythical artifacts.

"Did you know there's a legend about a sword that can summon storms? It's said the wielder could control the wind and lightning."

Arlon's eyes flickered briefly, but his expression remained calm. "I've heard of it," he said simply.

"Really?" Irish's eyes widened. "Do you think it's real?"

Arlon's response was measured. "Legends often hold a grain of truth. But they're usually exaggerated."

Irien looked up from her book on estate management. "Even if it's exaggerated, there's value in understanding the stories people tell," she said thoughtfully.

"Sometimes they reveal more about the people than the objects themselves."

Arlon nodded, glancing between the two of them. Their excitement and eagerness were infectious, though he kept his expression steady.

The twins continued to chatter, alternating between the books they wanted to study and the ones they wanted to share with Arlon. Irish, ever the enthusiast, leaned closer to Arlon, holding up a page with an illustration of an ornate staff. "Look! This one's supposed to control time! Wouldn't that be amazing to have?"

"Or dangerous," Irien interjected quietly, turning a page in her own book. "Power over time would come with consequences."

Ace, lounging on the table, let out a dramatic yawn. "I vote for anything that lets me nap longer. Maybe skip forward to the part where I don't have to hear about time-controlling staves."

Arlon gave him a brief, sidelong glance but otherwise ignored him.

As the hours passed, the atmosphere in the library softened. The twins' chatter grew quieter, their focus shifting more toward study, though they occasionally shared snippets of information or curious questions with Arlon.

At one point, Irish tilted her head and asked, "Lord Arlon, did you always like reading?"

Arlon paused, his fingers lightly brushing over the cover of one of the books.

His mind drifted unbidden to a memory—vivid, yet distant—of a different time.

A small, cluttered study filled with the faint smell of ink and old parchment. A fire crackling in the hearth. His grandfather's rough, calloused hand turning the pages of a thick, weathered book, his deep voice weaving a tale of distant lands and noble deeds.

As a child, he had sat on the edge of his chair, wide-eyed and captivated, more by the man's presence than the story itself.

Back then, reading had been a shared ritual, a thread connecting them. It was not the act of reading he'd cherished, but the sense of belonging it gave him—a fleeting moment of peace in a world that had often felt too vast and uncaring.

But that was his memory. His.

"I didn't have much time for it when I was younger," he admitted.

The thought unsettled him. The life he now lived was Arlon Throndsen's, but its roots were obscured to him—memories like shadows cast by someone else. The boy that had grown up here in this castle wasn't truly him.

What had Arlon's childhood been like? Had he loved books? Or had they been nothing more than tools in his education as the heir?

There were no answers to these questions, and perhaps there never would be. But the echoes of his own past, and the faint glimpses of the original Arlon's, left a quiet ache in his chest.

His fingers tightened briefly on the book's spine.

"But I've come to appreciate its value," he said finally, his voice even.

Irien glanced up, her gaze curious but respectful. "Then…what's your favorite kind of book now?"

Arlon hesitated, briefly considering the question. "Ones that teach," he said finally. "But also ones that make you think."

The twins exchanged a glance, their smiles subtle but telling.

The scent of freshly brewed tea reached the library before Dimitri himself arrived. The faint clink of a silver tray announced his entrance, and the twins perked up immediately.

"Ah, perfect timing," Irish said with a grin, closing her book with a soft thud. "I was just getting hungry."

Irien nodded, her gaze drifting to the tray. "Thank you, Dimitri," she said softly.

Dimitri set the tray down on the table with practiced grace, revealing an assortment of tea and delicately arranged biscuits. His sharp eyes flicked briefly to Arlon, then to the twins, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I thought a little refreshment would do you all some good."

Arlon reached for his tea without a word, taking a slow sip. The earthy flavor was familiar, if not entirely to his liking. He set the cup down carefully, his gaze shifting to the twins, who were eagerly helping themselves to the snacks.

Irish reached for her cup but bumped her elbow against one of the books she had brought over. In an instant, the tea tipped forward, spilling across the table and soaking the edge of the book.

Clink—

Ah!

"Oh no!" Irish gasped, scrambling to lift the book. Her face flushed red with panic as she dabbed at the pages with a napkin. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—this was one of my favorite books—"

Arlon watched her for a moment, his expression calm but thoughtful. He reached out, gently taking the book from her hands.

"It's not ruined," he said evenly, inspecting the damage. "It can be repaired. Or replaced."

Irish blinked up at him, her panic fading slightly. "But…"

He placed the book back on the table, his tone steady but reassuring. "Accidents happen. It's not worth worrying over."

Irien, who had been watching silently, spoke up. "He's right, Irish. We can ask someone to restore it."

Irish let out a small sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing. "Thank you, Lord Arlon." She hesitated, then added with a sheepish grin, "I guess I got a little too excited."

Ace, who had been lounging on the table, flicked his tail lazily and glanced at Arlon. "Imagine that. You, of all people, playing the role of the reassuring older brother."

Arlon ignored him, his gaze shifting back to the twins. "Be more careful next time."

Irish nodded quickly, her energy returning as she reached for another biscuit.

As the moment passed, Irien placed her hands lightly on the book she had brought earlier—the one about the knight. "This reminds me of something Mother told us," she said softly, her gaze distant.

Irish tilted her head. "About the story?"

Irien nodded. "She said that knights weren't just warriors. They were protectors. They had to care for their families, their people, even when it wasn't easy."

Arlon's gaze remained steady, though her words stirred something faint within him.

Irish leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. "Do you think knights got scared?"

Irien glanced at her sister, then back at Arlon. "Probably. But they didn't let it stop them."

For a moment, the library was quiet, the weight of her words lingering in the air.

Arlon finally spoke, his tone calm but firm. "Courage isn't the absence of fear. It's acting in spite of it."

Irish's eyes widened slightly, and Irien gave a small, thoughtful nod.

Dimitri, standing nearby, watched the exchange with quiet approval.

The twins eventually returned to their books, their chatter softening into occasional whispers. Arlon leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze distant as he considered the unexpected moment of connection.

For all their energy and inexperience, the twins had a quiet strength about them—one that reminded him of the weight of his own role.

And yet, in this quiet library, surrounded by books and the warmth of companionship, he felt something else: the faint but steady beginnings of trust.

The warm hum of the library filled the quiet space as the twins flipped through the pages of their books. Irish, who had finished her third biscuit, sat cross-legged in her chair, leaning over a colorful volume filled with old fables.

Scratch— Scratch—

Irien, seated beside her, was neatly annotating a book on household management, her pen scratching softly against the page.

Ace, now sprawled on a corner of the table, flicked his tail in lazy disinterest, his red ribbon glinting faintly in the light.

Arlon, ever the silent observer, had his eyes half-closed, resting for a moment as the twins occupied themselves.

Pop- Crackle—

The crackling fire in the nearby hearth added a faint warmth to the room, creating an atmosphere that felt surprisingly… serene.

Irish, always the first to break a lull, let out a soft gasp as she tapped a finger on her book. "Oh, I know this one!" she said excitedly, holding the book up for Irien to see.

Irien looked over briefly. "The fable?" she asked, tilting her head.

Irish nodded quickly. "Yes! Mother used to read this to us when we were little." She turned toward Arlon, holding the book out toward him. "Do you know it, Lord Arlon? The Wolf and the Sheep?"

The mention of the title made Arlon pause, his gaze sharpening slightly as his thoughts briefly drifted elsewhere. The memory of that story—the first book he'd opened in the villa after waking in this world—pressed faintly at the edges of his mind.

"Yes," he said after a moment, his tone even. "I've read it before."

Irish's eyes lit up. "Oh! You should read it to us, Lord Arlon!"

Arlon blinked, caught off guard by her sudden suggestion. "Read it?"

Irien glanced up from her notes, a faint flicker of curiosity in her usually reserved expression. "It's been a while since we've heard someone read to us," she said quietly.

"I don't—" Arlon began, but Irish interrupted, practically bouncing in her seat.

"Please? You have the perfect voice for it!" she insisted, beaming.

Ace lifted his head slightly, clearly amused, and muttered into Arlon's mind, "You can't escape this one, noble Arlon. They're determined."

Arlon let out a quiet sigh, his expression unreadable. He didn't particularly relish the idea of playing the storyteller, but the twins' expectant gazes—and the faint tug of curiosity in his own chest—left him with little choice.

"Fine," he said after a pause, his voice calm yet faintly reluctant. "Bring it over."

Irish's grin widened, and she practically leapt from her chair to hand him the book. She returned to her seat, sitting upright with childlike enthusiasm as Irien settled more calmly beside her.

Arlon flipped open the book, his fingers brushing over the textured pages. The familiar title stared back at him, and for a brief moment, the room around him seemed to blur.

The memory rose sharply—sitting in the villa's stifling quiet, the heavy reality of his new existence pressing down on him. That first reading hadn't felt like a mere fable; it had been a warning, a cruel reflection of the role fate had thrust upon him.

"The Wolf and the Sheep," he began, his voice cutting smoothly through the quiet.

His voice faltered for a brief moment, barely noticeable to the twins, but to him, the weight of the story pressed heavily on his chest. Still, he continued, each word a tether to a reality he could not escape.

That first reading had been a reflection of his predicament—this time, it felt like a warning.

These words again, he thought, his fingers tightening slightly around the edges of the page. No matter how far I've come in this world, it's like this story is waiting for me at every corner. As if it's reminding me of something I'd rather forget.

Irish and Irien leaned closer, their attention fixed on him as he continued.

As the quiet of the castle settled after the evening's earlier commotion, the Duchess found herself walking toward the library. The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the arched windows, spilling across the cold stone floor, yet she hardly noticed.

Her thoughts were still tangled in the aftermath of the meeting and the weight of decisions yet to come.

But as she neared the library doors, a faint sound stopped her mid-step—a voice, low and steady, carrying through the slight crack in the doors.

She paused, her brow furrowing slightly.

Arlon?