There was something very suspicious about Blythe’s behavior today.

  The only times she acted this strangely were when she had something, usually a plan to terrorize Daisy, up her sleeve.

  First, she hadn’t sent her VocAvis to Magnus this morning. He’d woken up dreading to hear her cheery voice that was, in truth, beginning to grate on his nerves, but it never came. She always called him in the mornings to invite him to breakfast, so it’d already stood out to him as abnormal behavior. He’d waited around for almost twenty minutes when it finally occurred to him that Blythe might be busy plotting something. In view of that, he'd decided to visit her manor despite the rare opportunity—to be left alone—he'd been given.

  Second, she’d shown up in a green dress on a school day like it was nothing unusual and called him 'Your Highness'. Blythe hadn't called him that ever since they’d gotten engaged. Something was amiss. Her growing obsession with Daisy Willoughby in recent years gave him reason to believe that she was planning something unsavory. She had tried to cajole him into skipping classes before, so that wasn’t the strange part. The odd part was her behaving as though she wasn’t trying to convince him to play truant. She’d seemed genuinely puzzled by his direct confrontation.

  Third, when he’d indicated his desire to wait outside her room—to keep an eye on her and make sure she wasn’t up to something untoward—she’d given him an awkward laugh and suggested it was inappropriate for him to loiter outside her room. Blythe had literally pulled him into her room several times, granted they always were chaperoned by her handmaid so that they weren’t left alone without witnesses, so what was she saying now?

  Finally, she’d said something that struck his notice. Denying any sort of plot against Daisy, she’d said she wanted to stop being childish and do her parents proud. He also noticed that, contrary to her usual behavior, she hadn’t blathered on about inane topics, such as a handkerchief she was embroidering for him, during their walk from the drawing room to her bedroom. Instead, she’d remained quiet throughout, speaking only when Magnus asked her a question.

  Could Blythe really have done some heavy introspection and reflected on the changes she needed to make to live up to her status as the daughter of the Duke of Obegary? If so, that would truly be a welcome change. For almost a year now, Magnus had been doubting her suitability as his fiancée due to her increasingly unbecoming conduct. If this wasn’t a trick of some sort, it would be a weight off his mind.

  Still, he intended to observe her to ensure she wasn’t up to something nefarious.

  ???

  Just as she recalled, the school uniform was a navy blue blazer over a white square collar shirt accompanied by a black pleated skirt. Mira stared at the checkered black-and-blue ribbon Suzy had helped her to tie under the collar.

  Finally dressed in her school uniform and equipped with the school bag Suzy had taken out from the last drawer in her desk, Mira left the bedroom. Magnus was leaned against the wall outside reading a book. When she emerged, he closed the book and stowed it in the bag he had slung over his shoulder and torso.

  She didn’t know what to say, so she smiled at him. Blythe was always smiling at him, right?

  His striking blue eyes were cold, but he granted her a smile. He really was breathtakingly handsome with his sharp facial features. No wonder he was a fan-favorite among the players of Waiting for Fireflies.

  Without another word, he turned in another direction and set off in a slow stride.

  Mira followed after him, with Suzy tagging along behind the both of them.

  The silence that thickened between them was awkward.

  Mira cleared her throat. “Are we … going to school now?”

  Magnus gave her a side eye. “Don’t we always have breakfast first?”

  A flash of red.

  Did her simple question irk him that much?!

  How was Mira supposed to have known that? She tried to keep the annoyance off her face as she forced a fake smile on her lips.

  “Oh, yes! I apologize.”

  It seemed she had to find some way of learning what Blythe's past habits and mannerisms were if she wanted to stop losing favorability points for asking innocuous questions.

  “Why did you ask that, then?” he asked, the gaze in his eyes distrusting and suspicious.

  The scream of frustration that wanted to break out and shatter all the windows in the place got stuck in her throat. Mira maintained her smile, which was becoming more and more mechanical by the passing second.

  She’d already apologized. Why couldn’t this guy let it go?

  "I must've been too sleepy when I asked that," she said. "I apologize for my inattention."

  Magnus frowned, but there was no drop in favorability.

  Awkward silence hung over them like a ceiling fan dangling precariously by its final connecting cable as they made their way through the corridors. Mira wondered if she should've been the one to lead the way, given that this was Blythe's residence and Magnus was a guest, but she quickly decided that this was for the best. After all, she had no idea where anything was, and she didn't want to risk getting Magnus even more suspicious than he already was.

  Stolen story; please report.

  It was probably a good thing that Magnus seemed to want to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  They arrived at the dining room without any further conversations. Mira took in the sight of the enormous dining hall, its walls decorated with large landscape paintings, replete with an ornate wooden dining table and its chairs that spanned nearly the length of the room. Servants bowed and greeted them as they entered.

  Mira followed Magnus to the table, where he strode up to a particular chair. A servant standing at the side of the room hurried over to pull out the chair for him before Magnus actually reached it.

  His confidence made it seem like he really did come here every morning for breakfast. It was probably his usual seat, even.

  Mira went around the table to sit in the chair directly opposite Magnus.

  Another servant pulled the chair out for her.

  It felt unnatural to sit down as someone else pushed the chair in under her, but Mira had no choice. Desperately hoping that she wouldn't fall on her behind because of poor timing, she slowly lowered herself down.

  When she was met with the solid seat of the chair, she sighed in relief.

  Servants began bustling into the dining hall with silver trays of food. A couple of maids set down plates and cutlery before Magnus and Mira. She smiled and thanked the maid who’d just placed a small plate on the table in front of her, eliciting a look of shock and alarm from her.

  Regret at her reflexive behavior swept through Mira as the maid stammered out a response before retreating. Mira wished she knew exactly how Blythe treated the servants in the duchy.

  Mira was looking to see what sort of food they were serving when a sudden flash of red caught her attention.

  What was it now?

  Agitated by the seemingly arbitrary drops in favorability, Mira turned away from the croissants on a tray one of the servants was bearing to look at Magnus instead.

  His frown was practically etched into his face.

  She smiled weakly at him, waiting for him to give some sort of indication as to what she had done wrong this time.

  He didn't disappoint.

  "Why are you sitting there?"

  It took all she had in her not to scowl right back at him.

  What do you mean, why am I sitting here? she wanted to yell. Where else am I supposed to sit—on the floor?

  Prince Magnus was way more uptight than he'd been in the game. She'd enjoyed his route when she'd played it, basking in his charmingly playful personality in his interactions with Daisy.

  Was he only this uptight and snappy when it came to Blythe? Her favorability with him was in the negatives after all.

  This had to be a stupid dream. Under the table, Mira discreetly pinched the underside of her forearm with merciless frustration. The resulting pain that pierced into her skin had her gasping and clutching her arm. Her eyes stung with tears.

  She’d overdone it. If this was a dream, it shouldn’t hurt this much, right?

  And it didn’t seem like a dream with the way that everything that happened had a continuous flow to it. Whereas her dreams usually consisted of different scenarios stitched together with abrupt transitions, she’d had to walk the entire stretch of corridors to get from one location to another.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Mira hadn’t known it was possible to look both wary and concerned at the same time, but there Magnus was, half-glaring at her as though he couldn’t decide how to react to her sudden display of pain.

  “N-nothing’s wrong! I … I’m just so hungry!”

  She gave him another fake smile before looking down at the plates of croissants, breakfast pastries, sunny side up eggs, sliced avocadoes, breakfast sausages, fried tomatoes, and caramelized mushrooms.

  This truly was the fantasy medieval world that Waiting for Fireflies was set in, where the plumbing and breakfast foods were modern and yet the peerage system still existed. She remembered some of the fantastical elements of this world that had shone through the story while she’d played the game, smiling grimly to herself. Her brain felt like it was about to melt from the sense of incongruity.

  She helped herself to a little bit of everything, remembering the pop tart she’d eaten for dinner last night. Her parents were under the impression that she'd cook her own dinner while they were out on a date, but they were dead wrong. She'd seized the opportunity to gorge herself on packaged snacks and candy.

  For good measure, Mira gave her thigh a little pinch just to check that it hurt—and it did—before placing a spoonful of mushrooms into her mouth. There was a nice bite to them, and its savory taste was a nice contrast to the memory of the overly sweet snacks she'd consumed last night.

  She ate the breakfast sausage next, being careful to take small, manageable bites after noticing the elegant movements of Magnus' hands and cutlery as he worked on his own meal. His way of eating was methodical, bordering on mechanical.

  The last thing she needed was another drop in favorability as a result of him perceiving a suspicious change in Blythe's eating disposition.

  They kept to themselves as they ate, making breakfast a quiet affair. Mira was happy not having to tax her brain by having a conversation as Blythe. Halfway through the meal, she pinched herself again under the table to check that it still hurt.

  It did.

  This was seeming more and more like reality rather than a dream at this point. She reached for a salt shaker on the table, feeling the weight of its glass body in her hand. Her dreams were never like this.

  When she was almost done eating, another flash of red caught her eye.

  You've got to be kidding me!

  Evidently, even just existing was enough to warrant a drop in favorability.

  "Why?" The question slipped from her mouth before it could get caught by her brain's filter.

  She looked up to see Magnus narrowing his eyes at her.

  "Pardon?" he asked, his voice light despite the mistrust on his face.

  "Why," she said, modifying her question to something she hoped would make sense to him, "are you looking at me like that, Magnus?"

  He was silent for a moment, looking away as if to ponder her question.

  Finally, when he turned back to her seconds later, he asked, "Why are you so quiet this morning?"

  Mira wanted to scream.

  Did she really just lose five favorability points for keeping her mouth shut?! Even though it looked like he didn't want to have anything to do with her?

  She had no clue what Blythe normally said to him when it was just the two of them. It seemed like a bad idea to risk striking up a conversation for the sake of keeping up appearances if she ended up ruining that very appearance by saying things Blythe never would.

  Mira pinched herself again. If this was just a dream, she could say whatever she wanted without suffering any repercussions for it, right?

  But the sharp spike of pain up her forearm told her that this was a very real scenario.

  "I'm tired," she said, blurting out the first excuse that came to mind. “I didn’t sleep well. I had a nightmare.”

  His stare was still cynical. As there were no further drops in favorability points, Mira didn’t care. She smiled sweetly again at him, her entire body on edge.

  If the loss of these favorability points led to some kind of bad event for Blythe like her execution or exile in the good endings of Waiting for Fireflies, she really couldn’t afford to get on his bad side. Well … even more than she already had, if the negative points were any indication. After all, all the signs pointed to this not being a dream.

  Her stomach, full of avocado and pastries and eggs and mushrooms and tomatoes, lurched.