Chapter Text
Rae leaned back in her chair, eyes fixed on the faint glow of the slate. Lines of text scrolled slowly past — developer logs she’d been combing through for the better part of an hour.
School festival event data, dialogue branch records, minor NPC state changes… All neatly filed in the game’s hidden backend. If this were a normal playthrough, she knew what she’d be seeing right now.
After the school festival, there was always an interlude. A breather in the pacing before the game quietly shifted into the next major arc — a time to lock in certain affection points, trigger key relationship flags, or in some routes… to begin the slow unraveling of the heroine’s fate.
That’s what should’ve been happening.
But Claire François wasn’t following the script.
In the original game, the Claire route had a tell-tale pattern displaying subtle but unmistakable signs of her impending “downfall” arc. Coolness in her interactions. A tendency toward self-isolation. A brittle, almost imperceptible edge in her voice that even her admirers failed to catch.
Here? Nothing.
If anything, Claire’s recent behaviour had been warmer. Sharper in wit, yes, but also more openly engaged with the people around her. She’d genuinely laughed during rehearsals, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She engaged in playful banter with her classmates and co-stars. She’d even humoured Rae’s “director instincts” without complaint, despite the chaos of the rewritten play.
And now, staring at the logs, Rae found… nothing. No indication that the system had registered a deviation, no new hidden affection flags, not even a stray debug note that might hint at a branching point.
Rae tapped her pen against the desk, brows knitting.
Her developer instinct whispered that this was wrong.
If Claire was going off-script, and Rae’s gut told her she was, then why wasn’t the game acknowledging it?
The thought nagged at her, heavier than it should’ve been.
She put away the slate with a sigh, rubbing her temples. With summer holidays approaching, the academy schedule was thinning out. That meant less opportunity to monitor Claire’s in-game behaviour from the safety of school events… and more chance for unseen story beats to slip past her.
Which meant she needed to look elsewhere.
If the logs wouldn’t tell her anything, maybe the town would. Events, errands, chance encounters — the sort of filler content players skimmed past without thinking. That was often where the developers hid their cleverest flags.
Rae leaned back, already picturing the cobblestone streets and bustling markets of the nearby town.
If the game wouldn’t give her the answers in code, she’d find them in person.
The Saturday sun was already warming the flagstones by the time Rae stepped through the academy gates, light filtering through the lazy sway of early-summer trees. Few “odd jobs” hinted at background plot events.
It was routine — a sweep of the usual NPCs and hotspots where information tended to pool — but Rae kept her senses tuned for anything out of pattern. An overheard rumor. A shopkeeper acting out of character. Any subtle shift that might hint the game’s systems were quietly rewriting the story around Claire.
She was just about to cut through the main lane when she spotted two familiar figures in the crowd.
Claire François, dressed in a pale summer dress, was examining silk ribbons at a stall, while Lene stood beside her holding two neat boxes and a wrapped parcel. Claire’s hair caught the light, almost glowing, her posture perfectly poised even here among the bustle. Rae froze mid-step.
Perfect. She could just turn, slip down the next street, and—
“Ah, Rae,” Lene said, noticing her instantly. “What a coincidence.”
Busted. Rae put on a polite smile. “Lene. Lady Claire.”
Lene glanced down at the packages in her arms, her expression faintly regretful. “I was just about to return these to the carriage before they become unwieldy. Lady Claire was still browsing.” She hesitated, eyes flicking between them. “Would you mind accompanying her until I return?”
Rae’s gaze narrowed. Lene’s tone was mild, but Rae had known her long enough to catch the tiny tell in her voice — the one that meant I will disappear for more than an hour so take all the time you need.
“Of course,” Rae said purely because refusing would only draw more attention.
Claire looked up from the ribbons, an unreadable gleam in her eye. “It seems fate insists on throwing us together in the most unexpected places, Commoner.”
“Seems so,” Rae replied evenly.
As Lene moved off toward the carriage, Claire stepped away from the stall. “So,” she said, her tone casual but pointed, “what brings you to town today? Shopping for yourself? Or… something else?”
“Just looking around,” Rae said, sidestepping the truth. “Checking in with a few people. Seeing what’s new.”
“Mm.” Claire’s lips curved faintly, though Rae couldn’t tell if it was amusement or suspicion. “Well, since we’ve crossed paths, you may as well walk with me.”
It wasn’t phrased like a question.
And Rae, despite herself, fell into step beside her.
They’d barely made it halfway down the market lane before Rae’s eyes flicked toward the side street leading to the tavern. It was still a little early, but if she wanted a word with the owner, she’d need a plausible reason to be there.
“Have you had lunch yet?” Rae asked, keeping her tone casual but alert.
Claire tilted her head, curious. “Not yet. Why?”
“I know a place,” Rae said. “Quiet, good food. Might be a nice break before we continue.”
Claire studied her for a long moment, her gaze lingering just a second too long, and then nodded. “Lead the way.”
The tavern’s carved sign swayed gently in the summer breeze, its paint a little more weathered than Rae remembered. Inside, the light was warm and muted, a soft contrast to the bright market outside, carrying the scents of baking bread, roasting meat, and faint ale. Rae couldn’t help the flicker of satisfaction she felt—this was the kind of place where conversations could be private, subtle glances could go unnoticed, and most importantly, information could be gathered without alarming anyone.
Rae stepped up to the counter first. “Private table, somewhere quiet,” she said. “We’d like not to be disturbed.”
The server blinked at her, then at Claire. Rae could guess the conclusions forming in her mind, but she didn’t bother correcting them. It made keeping her cover easier.
They were led to a booth tucked into a far corner, shielded on two sides by high wooden partitions. Claire settled in, smoothing her dress, a faint quirk tugging at her lips. An expression Rae knew was just the tiniest hint of amusement, curiosity, maybe a touch of… something else.
“I’ll get us drinks,” Rae said, using it as an excuse to step away.
The tavern owner was behind the counter, polishing a glass. His sharp eyes caught her immediately. “Well, well,” he said with a grin. “Haven’t seen you in here with company before.”
Rae ignored the implication. “Two drinks, and I wanted to ask—”
“On a date, are you?” he interrupted, leaning forward, a smirk teasing at the corners of his mouth.
She blinked. “It’s not—”
“Then you’ll want the couple set,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Most popular. Comes with a shared platter, dessert for two, drinks to match. Fills you up without weighing you down. Young folks love it.”
He never said “romantic,” but the glint in his eyes did all the talking. Rae exhaled slowly, forcing her expression to stay neutral. “Just… bring the drinks first,” she said.
He smirked knowingly and moved to fill the order. Rae carried the drinks back to the booth, careful not to glance at Claire. But she could feel the other’s eyes on her. Claire’s fingers brushed the rim of her glass, delicate and deliberate, as though measuring her reaction. Rae swallowed, reminding herself it was just a meal.
“They were already pouring,” Rae said smoothly, sliding into the booth. Claire’s lips twitched in half amusement, half disbelief but she said nothing.
The drinks were followed far too quickly by a large wooden tray. Rae’s eyes narrowed. Artfully arranged meats and cheeses, a small plate of heart-shaped fruit, symmetrical halves—the works.
“Oh,” Claire murmured, glancing between Rae and the tray. “How… thoughtful of you.”
Rae didn’t rise to the bait. “It’s just what they serve here,” she said, dividing the food before Claire could add anything. “Efficient.”
Claire rested her chin on her hand, studying Rae with that faintly amused, teasing expression Rae had learned to both dread and secretly crave. “Efficient is one word. Uncharacteristically sweet is another.”
Before Rae could answer, the owner appeared at the edge of the booth with a wide grin. “Enjoy your meal. You two make a fine—” He stopped abruptly at Rae’s look, coughed, and backed away.
Claire’s smile widened, but she didn’t press, lifting a fork to taste one of the cheeses. “You have interesting taste in restaurants.”
Rae watched her. Every subtle motion—the way her eyes lingered a moment too long, the soft blush creeping up her cheeks—made Rae’s chest tighten.
“They have good… information,” Rae said carefully, letting the words be casual. When Claire focused on her plate, Rae excused herself under the pretense of fetching more bread.
At the counter, the owner was waiting. “So, how’s the food?”
Rae rolled her eyes slightly before lowering her voice. “Anything unusual lately? Unfamiliar faces asking too many questions? Deliveries that shouldn’t be here?”
He shook his head. “Nothing big. Though…” He leaned in, glancing around. “Someone’s been asking after the academy’s visiting lecturers. Said they were with a publishing house. Didn’t seem bookish types.”
“Did they leave a name?”
“No. Paid in cash. Didn’t drink much. Just… listened.”
Rae filed it away. “Thanks. Let me know if they come back.”
“Will do. In return, tell me if you have more ideas for upcoming trends. The couple set curated by you drew massive crowds last week. Especially after the school festival,” he said with a knowing smile.
Rae nodded, promising to check in next visit.
Returning to the booth, Rae noticed Claire had already eaten half the platter, relaxed in a way Rae rarely saw. Claire offered a piece of fruit without a word. Rae took it, the brush of fingers sending an unbidden shiver up her arm. She chewed slowly, acutely aware of the warmth in Claire’s gaze.
They lingered, conversation drifting from the festival to classes, to the students’ reactions to the play. Rae was acutely aware of every subtle glance, every quiet laugh, the way Claire’s hand occasionally brushed the table near hers.
By the time they left, the sun had dipped low, bathing the street in amber light. Rae had what she needed from the tavern, a new lead to follow later—but she also had something else: a flustered, almost imperceptibly smiling Claire, and the undeniable pull of something neither of them wanted to name out loud.
For now, Rae pushed the thought aside. The “couple set” would likely be whispered about all week, but something told her the real story wasn’t on the tray—it was in the quiet tension between them, simmering, unspoken, dangerous in its subtlety.
The bookshop sat just off the main square, tucked between a tailor and a tea house. Rae had been here often enough to know its quiet corners and, more importantly, the owner’s habit of keeping tabs on anything that passed through town — whether in conversation or in print.
She held the door open for Claire, planning to split off toward the counter while Claire got distracted by the more academic shelves. But the moment the bell above the door chimed, the owner glanced up from behind the register, grinned, and said loudly enough for two customers to look over,
“Ah, Rae it has been a while."
He peered through his glasses and his grin widened. "Are you the other half of the festival power couple?”
Rae froze mid-step. “We’re—”
“—here to browse,” Claire said smoothly, gliding past Rae with perfect composure. “Lead the way.”
The owner chuckled, wiping his hands on a cloth. “You’ve caused quite the stir, you know. Ever since that play, I’ve had a surge in romance novel sales. All these students looking for their ‘Director and Actress’ moment.”
Rae’s ears burned. “That’s—”
“Here,” the owner interrupted cheerfully, steering them toward the romance section. “Best to start here. Classics, modern tales, bittersweet endings, and happy ones.”
Rae considered staging an immediate escape. But Claire was already standing in front of the shelves, her head tilted as she read the back of a slim, elegant volume.
The sight of her in the summer dress, framed by rows of gilded spines, was enough to make Rae’s train of thought wobble dangerously.
She cleared her throat, waited until Claire was engrossed in another book, and slipped away to the counter. “I’m looking for something else,” she murmured to the owner, keeping her voice low. “Anyone unusual asking after the academy? Or for historical records?”
The owner’s genial smile didn’t falter. “Had a gentleman in two days ago asking about the academy’s school festival and the books used. Didn’t look like a scholar. Bought nothing, just took notes on what we had and left.”
“Description?” Rae asked.
“Tall, dark coat, carried himself like a soldier. Polished accent, maybe.”
Rae filed it away. “Let me know if he returns.”
Before she turned, the owner whispered, “Your books have been selling like hotcakes. Customers have been demanding for the sequel. They’re also asking for a meet-greet session with the mysterious author.”
“Will let you know when the summer holiday starts. As agreed, my identity should remain a secret,” Rae whispered back.
The owner nodded, satisfied with the answer.
Rae rejoined Claire and found her still browsing, a faint crease between her brows as if weighing whether to actually buy the book in her hands. Rae said nothing — the titles she glimpsed were decidedly in the romantic intrigue category, and she wasn’t about to hand Claire that particular conversational weapon.
At the register, the owner rang them up for Claire’s book and then, with a conspiratorial wink to Rae, produced a small paper-wrapped parcel. “A gift for this lovely lady,” he said, “as instructed by your lovely companion.”
Rae opened her mouth to protest, but Claire accepted it with a gracious nod. “How kind of you,” she smiled at Rae and tucked it neatly into her bag.
As they stepped back out into the sunlit street, Rae had the sinking feeling she’d just become part of yet another rumor cycle. And she still didn’t know what was in that package.
The guild board was Rae’s final stop for the day. Just a quick check of posted notices for anything suspicious — bounties, supply shortages, cryptic warnings that usually masked larger events in the game’s world logic.
It was, she told herself, the safest location so far. No candlelit tables, no crowded aisles of romance novels. Just parchment tacked onto wood, smelling faintly of ink and dust.
No chance of anything “romantic” happening here.
That thought lasted precisely three seconds.
Because there, pinned right at eye level, was a freshly printed sheet in decorative script:
“Top Ten Romantic Spots & Date Ideas for the Season — As Voted by the Academy’s Sweethearts.”
Rae felt her soul leave her body. Number one? The tavern. Number two? The bookshop.
Suppressing a groan, she moved to block the board with her body, stretching casually as though inspecting another posting. Maybe she could distract Claire before—
“What are you hiding?”
The question came from directly behind her, but it wasn’t Claire’s voice — it was Lene’s.
Rae turned to find Lene approaching, the carriage behind her. She gave Rae a curious smile before glancing toward Claire, who was standing a few steps away, scanning the square.
“Milady,” Lene called innocently, walking over. “Where have you been? I left you for an hour and…”
“The tavern and bookshop,” Claire said promptly, with the air of one reporting an entirely routine itinerary.
Lene’s gaze drifted past her to the noticeboard Rae had been guarding. Her eyes lingered on the neatly inked “Top Ten” list — then, with a bemused lift of her brows, she said, “Ah. Well, that explains it.”
“Explains what?” Claire asked, curiosity piqued.
“The tavern and bookshop happen to be ranked first and second,” Lene replied lightly, “for most popular romantic destinations in town.”
Claire tilted her head, processing this. Rae, meanwhile, tore the notice from the guild board and glared at it. She also wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
Claire’s gaze slid from Lene to Rae, then back to the list in Rae’s hands. Her lips curved in the faintest, most dangerous kind of smile — the one Rae recognized from every moment in the game when Claire was about to change the flow of a scene.
“Oh,” Claire said softly, as if speaking to herself. “Number three… is the dessert shop near the west fountain.”
Rae’s instincts screamed retreat. “It’s probably crowded,” she said quickly. “And expensive. And—”
“And highly recommended,” Claire interrupted, tilting her head just enough to make Rae meet her eyes. “They’re famous for their mille-feuille and strawberry parfaits, aren’t they? We are already in town…”
Lene gave Rae a knowing look, the sort that said she had absolutely no intention of rescuing her from whatever this was. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she said, retrieving Claire's book purchases from Rae. “The carriage will be ready whenever you’re done.”
“Done with what?” Rae asked warily.
“Your… research. Or outing,” Lene said, the corners of her mouth twitching in barely hidden amusement. “Enjoy yourselves.” And with that, she left them standing in the square.
Claire turned back to Rae, her expression perfectly composed. “Shall we?”
Rae considered making an excuse, but the way Claire’s voice wrapped around those two words made it sound less like a question and more like a trigger flag in the game’s event system. She could almost see the invisible prompt hovering over Claire’s head: Accept Invitation — Yes/No.
And Rae, despite knowing exactly how the “date” label would spread through the school like wildfire, found herself saying, “…Fine. Just dessert.”
“Of course,” Claire said, the faint smile returning. “Just dessert.”
Which, Rae thought grimly as they started walking toward the west fountain, in this game’s logic, is never “just” anything.
The dessert shop near the west fountain looked exactly the way Rae remembered it from the game design— soft golden light spilling through wide windows, lace curtains fluttering faintly, the air filled with the scent of sugar, fruit, and warm pastry. It was one of those places that seemed to exist entirely for pastel-colored cutscenes.
Claire, naturally, fit right into the scene, her white sundress and red ribbon catching the light in a way that made passersby slow down to look. Rae, by contrast, felt like she’d walked into a frame she didn’t belong in.
A server spotted them the moment they stepped inside. “Welcome!” she sang out, beaming. Her eyes flicked between Rae and Claire. Then the smile widened just a little too knowingly.
“Table for two?”
“Yes,” Claire said smoothly before Rae could open her mouth.
The server ushered them toward a small table in the corner — the kind framed by a trailing vine and a window box of flowers. Rae’s developer instincts prickled. This was a flagged seat in the game — the one that would normally trigger an intimacy scene with the protagonist’s chosen love interest.
She sat down slowly, glancing toward the counter, thinking she’d at least get a chance to speak with the owner for her “information gathering.”
But the server leaned closer conspiratorially. “If you’re here for the first time, may I recommend the Lovers’ Special?”
Rae blinked. “The what now?”
“It’s our signature dessert plate for two. Perfect for sharing. The mille-feuille with fresh cream, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and our seasonal parfait. It’s very popular among—” the server’s eyes sparkled “—couples visiting from the festival.”
Claire’s smile deepened. “That sounds delightful.”
“Wait—” Rae started, but the server was already scribbling on her notepad.
“Coming right up!”
As the server bustled away, Rae sank back in her chair, covering her face with one hand. “This is the third time today.”
“Third time?” Claire asked, the picture of innocence.
“Tavern owner. Bookshop keeper. Now this. Everyone’s thought we are here…for their romantic specials.” Rae gestured.
Claire’s expression was unreadable, but the faintest touch of color warmed her cheeks. “Perhaps,” she said lightly, “they just sense the vibes. Although they are not too far off.”
Rae nearly choked on air. “You—”
She was saved — or doomed — by the arrival of the dessert plate, which the server set down with the air of presenting a royal banquet. The mille-feuille was dusted with powdered sugar so fine it gleamed, the parfait crowned with whipped cream shaped like a heart.
“Enjoy,” the server said warmly. “And take your time.”
Rae picked up her fork slowly, muttering, “This is a trap.”
Claire, utterly composed, slid the plate toward Rae. “Then we’ll spring it together.”
They ate — or rather, Claire ate gracefully while Rae tried not to be hyperaware of the way people at nearby tables kept sneaking glances at them. And cooing how cute they looked.
When the bill came, Rae automatically reached for it, but Claire’s hand was already there, cool and slender, brushing against hers.
“My treat,” Claire said softly, her voice carrying that quiet certainty Rae had learned to respect and, occasionally, fear.
Rae shook her head, fixing her expression with mock seriousness. “No. I’m the one who’s been dragging you all over town today. This one’s on me.”
Claire arched an elegant brow. “Dragging me?”
“...Guiding you,” Rae amended quickly, though the corner of her mouth twitched into a wry smile. She slid the bill toward herself before Claire could protest and head to the counter.
“How’s things? Any new development to note,” she whispered quickly to the smiling owner, knowing that Claire was watching them.
“We ‘ve see an influx of new customers last week. Hardly noteworthy. Most of them ordered the Lover’s Special,” the owner whispered back, wriggling her eyebrows. “Genius of you to suggest the parfait and mille-feuille pairing and market it to the couples.”
Rae smiled tightly. “Just change the name. ‘Lover’s Special’ sounds cringy.”
The owner lady nodded enthusiastically at the suggestion.
Rae then settled back into her seat and pulled out the crumpled notice she had torn from the guild board earlier. She smoothed it out and scanned the list again. A sudden realization hit her.
Every place mentioned in the list had been influenced or subtly consulted by her, in the name of “research.” Somehow, she had created a trail of romantic-themed opportunities without even noticing.
Belatedly, Rae spoke, almost to herself, “Next time, we’ll have to check the rest of these spots… for market research.”
Claire’s eyes flicked up, sharp and attentive. The faintest, most deliberate smile curved her lips. “Next time?” she repeated softly, tilting her head just enough to make Rae feel as though she were standing on a precipice.
Rae nodded seriously, “They’re probably worth following up. Might have a lead or two. Strictly professional, of course.” She then picked up her fork and finished the last piece of cake.
Claire’s gaze lingered, warm and knowing, her lips twitching with amusement. “Of course,” she said, her voice soft, teasing, and layered with meaning, “we wouldn’t want to miss a single one.”
It hit Rae a beat too late. Her chest tightened, and she froze mid-chew. Claire had not interpreted her words as logistical; she had interpreted them as a plan—for them. The mental image of Claire leaning in, picking the next destination together, made Rae’s strategic brain short-circuit.
Desperately, Rae tried to cover. “I mean, uh… logistical follow-ups. Definitely nothing… romantic.”
Claire only smiled more, faint, knowing, and utterly unbothered. “Don’t fight with me for the bill. Next time.”
Lene was arranging the parcels in the carriage when the sound of familiar footsteps reached her ears. She glanced up to see Claire approaching, sunlight glinting off her hair, a paper-wrapped bundle cradled in one arm and the faintest curve at the corners of her lips.
“You’re back earlier than I expected,” Lene said lightly, stepping forward to relieve Claire of a few shopping bags. “How was your time with Rae?”
Claire settled into her seat with the grace of habit. “Eventful,” she replied, her tone neutral. Lene had been with her long enough to hear the hidden threads.
“Eventful?” Lene prodded gently, closing the carriage door.
Claire glanced out the window as the carriage rocked into motion. “We visited a few places.” She paused, as if editing her own words. “And Rae was… quite insistent that we need to check the remaining places next time. From that list.”
At that name, Lene hid a smile behind the pretense of adjusting a parcel. Rae? Insistent? That was new.
“I see,” Lene murmured, deciding not to press — yet. “And did you enjoy yourself today?”
Claire’s gaze flicked toward her, cool and assessing, before she gave a faint hum of affirmation.
When the carriage hit a smoother stretch of road, Lene noticed Claire retrieving the paper-wrapped bundle from the bookshop. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked.
“It’s a gift,” Claire said, and there was something almost reluctant in the way she admitted it. She began untying the string, fingers deft, and peeled back the wrapping. Inside was a finely bound hardcover, its title embossed in gold.
Lene recognized it immediately. A classic romance, the sort young ladies pretended not to read but kept tucked away under their pillows.
Claire’s expression shifted as she turned the book in her hands, brushing her thumb over the gilt lettering. Her lips parted, just slightly, and a breath escaped her — not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.
Lene leaned back, studying her lady. “Interesting selection,” she said quietly.
Claire’s eyes flicked up, faintly narrowed in warning. “It was a gift prepared by the shop owner.” The last words were said with a dryness that told Lene exactly how much Claire suspected there was more to the story.
“I see,” Lene said, lips twitching.
Claire didn’t elaborate further. She was still staring down at the book, fingers resting on the cover as though she wasn’t ready to put it aside.
And in that moment, Lene thought, despite her obliviousness, Rae do know how to plan a memorable first date with her lady.
That, more than any gossip from the guild board, was worth noting.