The battlefield corridor still smelled of iron, burned mana, and the sharp sting of ruptured stone. Bodies, enemy and allied, lay strewn among shattered tiles and deep gouges left by magic and blades. The echoes of combat had died only moments ago, yet Xulian’s heart still hammered against her ribs as if war drums were trapped inside her chest.

  She stood beside Cilian, sword lowered at her side, fingertips trembling just enough that she curled them into a fist before anyone could notice. Her lungs pulled air in sharply, too sharply.

  This… this was her first real battle.

  Surviving the dungeon had been one thing. There, the fights had been desperate, instinctive, a matter of pure survival. But this—this had been a battlefield with soldiers, formations, strategy, blood spilt not because the dungeon willed it, but because she had cut it from living people.

  Her emotions twisted inside her like tangled weeds. Guilt, excitement, fear, relief, and a strange brightness she didn’t have a word for.

  For the first time… she hadn’t been alone.

  Cilian stepped close, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. His voice dropped into a tone meant only for her.

  “Xulian… are you alright?”

  She forced her face smooth, eyes forward, back straight.

  To everyone else, she must have looked perfectly calm—emotionless even.

  Cold and detached.

  A blade still sheathed in frost.

  But Cilian was too close, too perceptive.

  “I’m fine,” she said simply.

  Inside, she was not fine.

  Inside, she was screaming.

  Handsome protagonist checking on her so earnestly—ugh, how cliché.

  She knew his game. She had read enough novels.

  Oh, the overpowered prince cares so much about the lonely misunderstood girl—of course, he does. Harem protagonist logic.

  Her heart thudded again, louder, faster.

  Cilian’s gaze sharpened as he studied her face in worry.

  “You look shaken.”

  Of course, he noticed.

  Of course, he saw right through her.

  “I’m fine,” she repeated—firmer this time.

  He didn’t argue, but the tension in his expression eased only a little. He stayed close, subtly placing himself between her and the debris-filled corridor as if shielding her from anything that might still emerge from the shadows.

  Others watched them, some openly, some from the corners of their eyes.

  Vel, Luim, Lilian, and the paladins knew Xulian well enough to know her appearance was misleading. The cold and quiet exterior was not her nature—it was armour she wore because she didn’t know how to be anything else.

  They couldn’t read her.

  Cilian, annoyingly, could.

  A faint tremor ran through her fingers again, and she hid her hand behind her sleeve.

  Cilian leaned in slightly. “You fought well.”

  Xulian blinked. “I killed people.”

  “You defended yourself,” he corrected softly. “You defended all of us.”

  Her throat tightened. She hated how warm his voice sounded when he said things like that.

  Her mind rebelled.

  Stop being nice.

  Stop making this complicated.

  Stop making me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling right now.

  She took a step away to reclaim some air, but Cilian naturally mirrored her, staying within reach as if it were instinctive.

  He probably didn’t even notice he did it.

  She did.

  “You don’t have to hide how you're feeling,” he added. “I can see this was your first time.”

  Her breath caught.

  She turned her face away slightly. “You’re reading too much into it.”

  First time! Really, THAT is what you're going for?! Is he a PERVERT?!

  “Am I?” he asked.

  Yes.

  And also no.

  Damn him.

  Her thoughts swirled, frantic and disordered, but her face remained still. A few soldiers passing by glanced at her, their expressions mixed with respect, fear and awe.

  She looked like a statue carved of moonlight and ice. They quickly avoided her sharp gaze as it was like staring straight at an unsheathed sword.

  Inside, her emotions were a storm ripping apart everything she thought she knew about herself.

  A distant shout signalled that the healers had finished stabilising injured soldiers. The corridor was gradually returning to a tense silence. Blood pooled between cracked tiles, reflecting the torchlight in thin shimmering streaks.

  Xulian breathed slowly.

  Her heartbeat began to settle.

  Cilian stayed beside her, presence steady, grounding. Protective. Annoyingly warm.

  Still, the image of a flawless protagonist straight out of a novel she’d once mocked.

  Finally, she spoke—very quietly.

  “You don’t have to hover over me.”

  “I know,” he said.

  Her jaw tightened, but her chest warmed in a way she didn’t trust.

  Before she could settle, hurried steps echoed sharply. Lilian barreled down the corridor, skirts swishing, a satchel bouncing, hood quivering as she ran. Her hood was barely atop her head from how fast she was running.

  “Xulian!” she shouted, voice tinged with panic.

  Xulian blinked as the girl skidded to a stop in front of her, eyes wide with worry.

  “Oh, thank Celestine, you’re standing—you’re upright—are you bleeding? Are you dizzy? Are you—” Lilian’s hands were already hovering near Xulian’s shoulders, hip, sides, checking for wounds she couldn’t see.

  “I’m fine,” Xulian said.

  Lilian did not believe her. Not for a single moment.

  “You’re the lowest level in the entire expedition! And you’re still recovering! And—and—” The Saintesses' voice cracked. “You scared me when you jumped on that arrow!”

  For a moment, Xulian felt something inside her soften to her annoyance.

  The concern was real.

  Warm.

  Uncomplicated.

  Very unlike Cilian’s intense, perceptive gaze that made her insides twist into knots.

  Lilian fussed harder, her fingers brushing along Xulian’s sleeves as if expecting hidden trauma to leap out and bite her.

  Xulian sighed faintly. “…I really am fine.”

  “But—!”

  She didn’t know why she did it.

  Maybe because Lilian’s earnestness was ridiculously cute.

  Maybe because the guilt from killing enemies still lingered like a shadow behind her ribs.

  Or maybe because this tiny, naive girl looked like she was about to cry.

  Xulian lifted her hand—hesitated for half a second—then gently placed it on Lilian’s head.

  Lilian froze.

  Then—

  Her tail hidden under her cloak, wagged so violently that the fabric twitched like it was possessed. Her hood slipped backward, catching on a soft blond dog-ear before falling entirely.

  Xulian blinked.

  …She’s a puppy. Actual golden retriever puppy.

  Sunlight-colored hair spilt out, her fluffy ears perked, and her tail kept swishing madly under her robes. Lilian leaned into the headpat like it was the meaning of life.

  “L-Lilian,” Xulian murmured. “You’re… shedding.”

  “I-I can’t help it…” the girl whispered, eyes half-lidded in bliss. “It feels nice…”

  Cilian stood off to the side, watching the scene with the deeply complicated expression of a man who wasn’t sure if he should laugh, intervene, or collapse from secondhand embarrassment. His lips twitched, fighting a smile.

  Xulian kept patting.

  Lilian practically melted.

  The corridor, still heavy with blood and broken stone, became painfully, surrealistically wholesome.

  A soft cough cut through the air.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Both girls snapped their heads up.

  Luim stood a few paces away, arms crossed, expression so flat he could have been carved from granite.

  “I see the two of you are… busy.”

  Xulian’s hand jerked back so fast she nearly elbowed herself.

  Lilian squeaked, face going scarlet to the tips of her ears, tail shoving against her cloak in frantic mortification.

  “It—it’s not what it—! Luim—I—! She was— I was—!”

  Vel appeared beside him, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “Should we… come back later?”

  The soldiers scattered around the corridor—exhausted, injured, dirty—began snickering, chuckling, and whispering as the scene unfolded. Even in the aftermath of a battle, the sight of their serious little saintess melting under Xulian’s hand had cracked the oppressive atmosphere.

  Lilian covered her face with both hands. “Xulian… I’m going to die…”

  Xulian, once again, felt embarrassment tug sharply at her own chest. “It's my second time, Lilian. You’ll be fine.”

  Luim raised a hand, signalling the end of their torment. “Lilian, the injured still need you. Go.”

  “Yes! Right! Going!”

  Lilian bolted, tail a blur behind her as she fled down the corridor.

  Sunette and Agitha jogged after her, one whispering loudly,

  “She’s gonna bury herself in work for a week.”

  The other whispered back,

  “It was cute though.”

  Xulian rubbed the bridge of her nose.

  Vel stepped closer and clapped her gently on the shoulder. “She adores you, you know.”

  “I noticed.”

  Cilian, now fully amused, finally spoke. “It was… endearing.”

  Xulian shot him a look that could have sliced steel.

  He immediately straightened. “I said nothing.”

  Vel snickered.

  Luim sighed, exasperated yet fond. “Enough. Commander Brill is waiting. Let’s move.”

  Xulian fell into step with them, still burning slightly with the memory of Lilian’s wagging tail.

  The battlefield had been terrifying.

  But this—

  This strange warmth followed behind her as they walked—

  This feeling of… being part of something—

  It was new.

  And she didn't know what to do with it.

  The deeper they walked into the corridor, the more the air shifted—less frantic, more controlled. The soldiers here stood in proper formation, though many limped or bore fresh bandages. A large section of the dungeon hall had been cleared, forming a temporary command post around a cracked stone pillar.

  Commander Brill stood at its centre.

  Tall. Broad-shouldered. A dark beard streaked with grey. His armour was dented and scorched, but the man wore exhaustion like it was merely another layer of gear. When he noticed their approach, his stern expression softened just enough to acknowledge them.

  Cilian stepped forward first, posture firm but relaxed—an ease that only officers who lived on battlefields ever possessed.

  “Commander Brill,” he greeted.

  Brill clicked his fist to his chest in salute. “Your Highness.”

  His eyes slid toward Xulian with a flicker of curiosity. “And the young woman who arrived with you.”

  Cilian glanced at Xulian.

  Cilian stepped forward. “Commander Brill, allow me to introduce Miss Ling Xulian. We found her on the nineteenth floor—directly beside the newly-formed dungeon core. She is currently under my protection.”

  Brill’s eyebrows rose at that, clearly reassessing her.

  Xulian took a quiet breath, straightened her posture, and performed a graceful cupped-fist salute—hands aligned, sleeves falling like flowing silk, the exact poise of a cultivation fairy stepping out of a heavenly pavilion.

  “Xulian greets Commander Brill,” she said in a soft, clear tone.

  Internally, she screamed at herself.

  Yes. Good. Elegant. Fairy-like. Do not embarrass yourself. You are a mysterious senior expert. Float, don’t stumble—

  Brill blinked, momentarily thrown by the formal motion.

  But he recovered quickly, dipping his head in acknowledgement.

  “A refined greeting. A pleasure to meet you under better circumstances than the battlefield.”

  Vel smirked behind her, and Cilian hid a small, subtle grin in approval.

  Brill nodded back. “I heard your name whispered up and down the corridor… along with a number of soldiers swearing that a ‘ghost girl’ carved a tunnel through the enemy rear with his highness. I assume that was you.”

  Xulian blinked once. “…Possibly.”

  Vel snorted behind her.

  Cilian continued, tone shifting as he recounted the incident. “She engaged the enemy with me and displayed exceptional combat skill. Her actions saved several squads. Without her intervention, we would have suffered significantly higher casualties.”

  Brill’s brows lifted. His gaze sharpened. “Impressive.”

  Then he exhaled, heavier this time. “We need every edge we can get.”

  His expression darkened, becoming all business.

  “We started with four hundred knights and about twenty-five parties of adventurers,” he said quietly. “We’re down to just over two hundred, though most of the adventurers survived. We lost most on the way to this location. The front squads took the heaviest hits, but…” His jaw tightened. “We pushed through.”

  Xulian’s stomach knotted.

  She had seen corpses—she had created many herself—but hearing the numbers drove the reality deeper. This wasn’t a small skirmish. This was war creeping into the dungeon’s walls.

  Brill continued, “We’ve captured fourteen enemy soldiers alive. Interrogations will begin shortly. They’re refusing to speak for now.”

  Vel crossed her arms. “A disciplined unit then?”

  Brill nodded grimly. “Too disciplined. Too coordinated. For a force this size to strike us inside a dungeon… it doesn’t add up.”

  Cilian’s expression hardened, shadows flickering in his eyes.

  “It does,” he said quietly. “If I were their target.”

  Brill didn’t argue. Vel shifted uncomfortably. Luim frowned.

  Xulian’s head snapped toward Cilian. “You're the target? I thought it might be because of the dungeon core Lilian was looking at.”

  What? Why you? Are you seriously telling me the enemy risked a potential international incident just to come grab one handsome protagonist prince with plot armour hair? That’s—

  Brill answered before she could finish screaming internally.

  “Lady Xulian,” he said, “I’m aware His Highness rarely speaks of his rank outside official business, but you should fully understand the scale of the situation.”

  Xulian stared. “I… know he’s a prince, but—”

  Brill’s brows rose. “Not just a prince.”

  Cilian shot the commander a warning look.

  Brill ignored it.

  “He is also the commanding officer of the First Imperial Knight Battalion.”

  He paused, letting the weight settle.

  “And the commander of the entire Imperial Knight Order.”

  Xulian’s soul left her body.

  THE protagonist package—ACTUALLY CONFIRMED. First Knight Battalion? COMMANDER OF THE WHOLE ORDER? Are you kidding me? What next? Is he secretly a reincarnated dragon god? Of course he is! Of course, the enemy is willing to start a war for him—HE’S THE ENTIRE MILITARY FACE OF THE EMPIRE!

  She stared at Cilian, like he had personally offended her by existing.

  He looked away. “It was not relevant at the time.”

  YES, IT WAS YOU MENACE—THAT IS VERY RELEVANT INFORMATION!

  Brill continued, oblivious to her silent screaming.

  “If the Surillian Empire believed they had a perfect chance to eliminate or capture him… they’d take it. Even if it risked open conflict.”

  Luim added, voice low: “Especially here, inside a dungeon on the border in a contested area. Responsibility is harder to trace.”

  Xulian exhaled slowly through her nose, steadying herself.

  “All right,” she said. “Then the dungeon becomes the battleground they want to disguise.”

  Cilian nodded. “Exactly.”

  She scanned the scattered corpses, the discarded weapons, the grim faces of the soldiers still standing.

  “Then we disguise it better.”

  Brill blinked. “Explain.”

  Xulian stepped closer to the table, her eyes sweeping over the map, then drifting to the images she still carried in her mind: bodies, blood, broken armour, lost faces.

  She inhaled softly.

  “Right now,” she began, voice steady in contrast to the pounding in her chest, “this battlefield says one thing: Surillian soldiers died fighting Belgruim knights.”

  Brill grimaced. “Which they did.”

  “Yes,” she nodded, “but if Surille finds these bodies as they are, they’ll know exactly what happened. They’ll know their force was wiped out by your people. And whether they were here for the dungeon core, or…” her gaze flicked to Cilian, “…for him, they will retaliate. Immediately. They’ll claim they were here on investigation like you, and you attacked them unprovoked.”

  Cilian stiffened, jaw tightening—but he didn’t interrupt.

  “The very fact they dared this means they are prepared, and you are not.” She stated as she moved her hands behind her back, looking at each of them.

  Xulian continued.

  “You said this region is contested. An old ruin between two nations, unclaimed, unprotected, and full of monsters. And it is full of monsters.” Her tone sharpened slightly. “So let’s make that the story.”

  She reached onto the table and tapped the sketched outline of the battlefield.

  “We strip the Surillian soldiers of anything identifying—crests, insignias, armour plates, emblems. Take it all. Then we leave broken pieces of Belgruim armour on them. Old, damaged, useless. The kind you would discard anyway.”

  Vel leaned forward, eyes brightening. “So when Surille finds their bodies... they’ll think—”

  “That this was a Belgruim expedition,” Xulian finished. “Killed somewhere deep in the Marlow ruins. Lost to the beasts or the dungeon itself.”

  Luim exhaled, slow and thoughtful. “It’s plausible. Very plausible. This dungeon creates the perfect cover story.”

  Brill narrowed his eyes. “And if Surille demands to know why their men have not returned?”

  Cilian answered first. “Then we say the truth. That our forces found signs of goblin hordes and monster attacks deeper in the ruin. They’ll assume their force died the same way. And even if they don’t believe it, they can’t justify any conflict.”

  Xulian nodded. “The important part is that they can’t trace this back to you—and they can’t trace it back to Belgruim.” She looked at Brill. “This gives you time. Days… maybe weeks. Enough for the Empire to reposition its forces and prepare before Surille even realises something is wrong or comes up with a reasonable justification.”

  Brill stared at her, long and heavy.

  Then he exhaled sharply.

  “…It might actually work.”

  Xulian’s shoulders loosened—just barely—but inside, she nearly sagged with relief.

  Cilian, however, watched her differently. His gaze lingered on her face, searching, assessing, then softening with something like admiration.

  “She came up with that on the spot,” he said to Brill quietly, though clearly on purpose. “This plan is solid.”

  Xulian’s ears warmed. She held her posture straight, cupping her fist respectfully in an attempt at being dignified, though she could feel the awkwardness tickling her spine.

  Brill huffed a laugh. “Well, she just saved us from a diplomatic disaster. Stranger or not, I’ll take it.”

  Vel smiled. Luim suppressed his own, though his eyes twinkled.

  Cilian stepped closer, just enough that she felt the warmth of his presence at her side.

  “We’ll implement your plan immediately,” he said to her, voice quieter but no less sure. “You’ve done more for this army than most do in a lifetime.”

  Xulian froze.

  Her brain supplied only one coherent thought:

  Damn it. Stop praising me. Stop praising me. You’re too smooth. Damn protagonist.

  Brill straightened. “We’ll begin immediately. Strip the enemy dead. Move their equipment to the temporary armoury. Record nothing that ties them to Surille.”

  Vel saluted and jogged off to relay the orders.

  Luim followed with a quiet nod toward Xulian—a subtle acknowledgement of respect.

  Cilian remained beside her, voice low. “You handled that well.”

  Xulian crossed her arms, refusing to look at him. “I only said what made sense.”

  “…Still well done.”

  Stop being nice. I swear I’ll combust.

  The soldiers were already moving, preparing to reshape the battlefield into a new narrative.

  And as Xulian watched them, a strange tension settled in her chest—a mixture of responsibility, dread, and something new.

  For the first time, she wasn’t merely surviving a dungeon.

  She was part of a force.

  Part of a choice.

  Part of something larger than her.

  Whether she wanted to be or not.

  Xulian and Cilian stepped out of the command tent, leaving Brill behind as he continued issuing orders. The corridor beyond was alive with movement—soldiers gathering fallen comrades, organising supplies, and dragging enemy bodies into a central area for sorting.

  Xulian glanced up at Cilian. “So… what happens now?”

  Cilian exhaled slowly, looking over the controlled chaos of the battlefield. “Now we put your plan into motion,” he said. “The men are already stripping the Surillian soldiers of any identifying gear and leaving broken items behind. With the scene staged the way you suggested, we can claim these casualties were part of our expeditionary team and that we were ambushed by the monsters. I see no Surillian soldiers here, do you?”

  She gave him a look with a faint smile tugging at her lips. “No. Those goblins were too much of a pain to deal with, though.”

  He looked at her with a touch of admiration. “It’s a clever move. It buys us time to navigate the politics before the Empire of Surille tries to twist the narrative.”

  Xulian nodded slightly, though inside she felt a flicker of pride—and a larger surge of relief. At least her idea could at least delay a war.

  She glanced at the soldiers packing gear onto wagons. “And where are we going?”

  “To the frontier fortress town of Gilium,” Cilian answered. “Three days from here. We’ll stop in Mondholz along the way to resupply. After what you’ve been through…” His eyes softened. “You deserve to see something other than stone corridors and dead ruins.”

  Xulian’s pulse quickened with excitement she tried not to show it on her face. Finally, something beyond the dungeon. A real town. Real sky.

  Her expression stayed neutral, but her inner voice nearly squealed.

  A town. An actual town—finally! And maybe a bath!

  Cilian seemed to read the subtle shift in her eyes and chuckled. “I thought you’d like that.”

  Around them, soldiers barked orders, metal clattered, and the scent of blood began to fade beneath the smell of drying lantern oil and earth. Xulian felt the world expanding beyond the suffocating stone walls.