Anastasia Romanov (Fate/Marvel)

Anastasia Romanov POV

"Don't do it again, Anastasia," my mother sternly reminded me.

The working class had never left her with a good impression, especially with their incessant demands, which were becoming increasingly violent.

Even though the priest leading their march did not give off that hostile vibe and was advocating for a peaceful resolution, it couldn't erase the negative impression she and father held of the worker and lower classes. Their seemingly impossible demands for more voice and higher wages only worsened this.

Russia, after all, was on the brink of chaos, especially with how fragile the economy was, despite our so-called victory over Japan, a victory that could barely compensate with war reparations, let alone fully restore Russia's crumbling state.

"They are our people, Mother. Why do you fear our own people?" I asked with feigned innocence, masking my true thoughts behind a veil of naivety.

My question left her momentarily speechless, unable to formulate a response.

"Yes, they are our people, Alix. Why fear them?" Even Father, himself, supported my statement, agreeing with what I had just said.

Why indeed fear them?

This was the confidence of my father as Tsar, believing the empire was still firmly within his control rather than slipping from his grasp.

Of course, this confidence was thanks to me. If it hadn't been for me, for the way I saved his ass from losing the Russo-Japanese War, things would have played out quite differently.

Well, whatever, as long as my father was happy, anyway.

"You... How could you do this, Nicky?" My mother lashed out, her frustration aimed at Father when she found she could not counter my argument, accusing him instead of betraying her stance.

"But I merely spoke the truth," Father whispered under his breath, a statement just loud enough for both of us to hear, which earned him an exasperated, deadpan stare from my mother.

"Hmph, from this day forward, you will be grounded, young lady! You will never be allowed to go outside without our permission. Never repeat that again!" She glared at me with intensity, her authority unquestionable.

"Yes, ma'am!" I grinned and saluted, clearly pleased with the outcome.

Who, in their right mind, would want to go outside when I could happily embrace my fate as a NEET, locking myself away in my room?

Being a NEET was certainly not the most glorious profession, but it was undoubtedly the most enjoyable one humanity had ever invented.

Her expression quickly shifted to one of regret as she realized I viewed this more as a reward than a punishment.

Before she could take back her words, I hastily stormed off to my room and locked myself in.

And so, with that, I spent all my time lounging, sleeping, and hugging my doll, Viy, as we immersed ourselves in our own little world, isolated from everything outside.

After rolling around in bed for a while, I finally sat up in the corner of my sheets, letting out a long sigh of boredom. I had almost forgotten that this wasn't the modern world. There was no internet here, no trashy stories to read on Webnovel, and Viy had clearly noticed my restlessness, deciding to break the silence and start the conversation.

"There's something I haven't been able to figure out, Anastasia," she began, her voice curious. "How could choosing General Alexei Brusilov possibly make such a difference? And how did you know that by selecting him, we would win?"

Her question was one I wasn't particularly keen on answering, not for the second time.

How could I explain how I knew?

Should I admit that I chose him because I was aware of his brilliant military record from World War I?

It was obvious that he was a far superior commander, his assertive and aggressive strategies a stark contrast to the indecisiveness of the one who led in the original timeline.

I didn't even bother to remember the name of that previous commander from the original history—it wasn't important enough for me to remember.

As Viy asked her question, I absentmindedly reached for the mineral water on the desk and took a long gulp. I was parched from earlier, having spent hours playing in the mud and talking with the protesters.

Viy, ever observant, noticed my tiredness and, true to form, didn't interrupt me.

That's one of the things I appreciated most about Viy—she never interrupted me. She always waited patiently, never pushing for answers I wasn't willing to give. Even if I chose not to respond, she wouldn't press the issue, simply watching as I finished off the bottle of mineral water and placed it back on the desk.

Once again, I didn't give her the answer she sought.

Instead, I picked up the notebook lying on the desk and let my imagination wander as I began writing a story, something to waste time and provide a bit of entertainment for myself.

Viy didn't push for more; she just quietly perched on my shoulder, reading the words I scribbled with an air of curiosity.

In the end, she said nothing, content to sit with me as I lost myself in my writing.

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