Wasn’t This Supposed To Be a Strategy Game?

The low chuckle interwoven into Asmun’s voice was clearly one of mockery. It was obvious he believed Eden had no understanding of Pasaram’s value. To him, she was just another naïve individual with no divine insight.

“Apparently, your god is mistaken about something. Go back and inform them that I cannot comply with this oracle.”

“…….”

“Of course, as someone chosen by the divine, I trust you’ll be able to deliver that message.”

Asmun’s gaze was subtle yet loaded. It bore a mix of disappointment and what seemed like resignation. It was as if he had confirmed that Eden’s earlier intervention was mere coincidence and now found no reason to hold onto unrealistic expectations. Perhaps he thought to himself, once again, that gods did not exist.

Eden clenched her fist tightly. Maybe gods didn’t exist, but the prophecy she received was undeniably real.

How else would I have known that?

“…….”

Eden knew there wouldn’t be another chance if she let Asmun walk away. As he rose and began to turn, she stood quickly and grabbed his wrist.

“You can’t leave like this!”

Caught off guard, Asmun paused and turned to her, his piercing gaze sharp with suppressed irritation.

“…….”

He looked down at his left wrist, where Eden’s grip tightened around it. Despite laying a hand on a prince, Eden didn’t show the slightest hint of fear or hesitation.

It had been so long since anyone dared to touch him that he was momentarily lost in thought. But before the feeling could settle, Eden released his hand with a forceful motion.

“You must follow my words, Your Highness.”

As she spoke, Eden raised her hand and lightly touched her left chest. Beneath her thin priestly robe, the mark Asmun had engraved remained etched on her skin.

“This was part of the terms of our pact.”

At her words, Asmun looked at her again. He hadn’t expected her to invoke the covenant. That pact was supposed to be for his own benefit—to secure her cooperation in his ascension to the throne.

It was true that if Eden broke the covenant, it would lead to her death. The plan had been to leverage that fear to keep her in line.

Yet Eden’s fearless gaze rendered all of that powerless. She showed no hint of trepidation or weakness, as though she, not Asmun, held the upper hand in their pact.

“Give Pasaram to Kyris, and secure Lebeim in return.”

At the absurdity of her proposal, Asmun’s brow twitched.

Lebeim? That barren wasteland? Even Kyris, for all his ambition, had struggled to conquer or make use of it.

“Is this also part of the oracle?”

“Yes, it is.”

Asmun let out a short, incredulous laugh. It was a ridiculous proposition—to trade gold for garbage. Yet Eden didn’t waver.

“I understand how much Pasaram means to you.”

Asmun’s gaze darkened as he observed her.

“And what, exactly, does it mean to me?”

“It’s the inheritance left to you by the Second Empress, Your Majesty…”

At the mention of the late empress, Asmun’s eyes grew sharper, but Eden pressed on.

“…and your sole financial lifeline. I know there’s an unregistered Tebel in Pasaram.”

At those words, Asmun’s sharp gaze froze in place. Eden silently celebrated her small victory.

This really is thrilling.

Each time Asmun reacted to her words with such intensity, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction. It was exhilarating to have this fierce prince hang on her every word, as if she were a true prophet or strategist.

“Lebeim will mean far more to you than Pasaram ever could. Should I stake my life on it?”

Despite her seemingly dire words, Eden exuded confidence. Her calm demeanor and subtle air of assurance gave her the upper hand.

“If you can’t trust in the gods…”

She held Asmun’s gaze, unflinching.

“Then trust me.”

Asmun’s stormy gray eyes glimmered for a moment. He clenched his fists without realizing it. In truth, the woman standing before him—who had saved him twice—seemed more trustworthy than any intangible deity.

“I will see you become emperor, no matter what.”

What Asmun couldn’t understand, however, was why she was so invested in his ascent to the throne.

Eden had merely claimed it was divine will, but Asmun didn’t believe in gods.

“You can always reclaim the land afterward.”

Her insistence on abandoning Pasaram, coupled with her clear, unwavering gaze, sent Asmun’s thoughts into turmoil.

“…….”

Give up Pasaram for Lebeim?

It was a laughable trade. Eden clearly knew Pasaram’s power and value, yet she was still advising him to let it go.

Could this truly benefit me in any way?

Rationally, the answer was no. It made no sense. Rationally.

As something unspoken swelled within him, Asmun swallowed hard and spoke in a dry tone.

“…How could Lebeim possibly be more valuable?”

Though his voice carried lingering disbelief, the fact that he was willing to continue the conversation was enough for Eden. A satisfied smile graced her lips.

“There’s a mountain in Lebeim called Redveil. Deep inside that mountain…”

As Eden explained, Asmun’s neutral expression slowly hardened. Undeterred, she continued to speak.

When she finally finished, Asmun stared at her in disbelief, his expression even more incredulous than when she first told him to relinquish Pasaram.

“That’s why you have to trust me.”

Eden’s words were filled with confidence as she stared back at him with a steady gaze.

“…….”

Asmun silently watched her, his thoughts racing. Eden, however, was smiling as though she had already proven Lebeim’s worth beyond doubt.

“You won’t regret this.”

****

The quest was complete, and Eden had successfully delivered the prophecy’s content to Asmun.

For the next few days, life settled into an uneventful routine. Eden returned to her duties as an apprentice priest, cleaning, praying, and going about her chores.

“Haa…”

Why couldn’t I have been reborn as a duke or a count?

“Whether it’s here or there, the life of a laborer is always the same…”

Folding laundry, Eden wistfully looked to the sky, her thoughts drifting to her past life. Life there had been as grueling as it was here, akin to playing an endless, unforgiving game.

“Did I pass that interview…?”

On the day she installed

Eden—no, Ji-won—had attended a job interview. Once this surreal game was over, she would return to her monotonous, unending real life.

But it had felt good this time, she thought.

Eden was confident she would return to her reality the moment she completed the game. After all, this was just a game.

“I just need to clear it. That’s all.”

Still, the end seemed far away. Though there were no new quests for now, Eden was somewhat relieved. Her tea time with Ibtan had been so stressful it left a lasting impression.

“I swear, if I get a ‘Dance Time with Hagenti’ quest, I’m done.”

Muttering idly as she folded the laundry, Eden suddenly froze at her own words.

“Hagenti…”

How could I have forgotten about Hagenti?

Her face turned grave at the sudden recollection of the archmage. What little she knew of Hagenti was limited to his title and the fact that his “rampage” would one day lead to the empire’s downfall.

“Where was Hagenti before his rampage?”

Eden hugged the pile of laundry close, trying to recall. She had only encountered Hagenti in her final playthrough of the game.

When… when was that exactly?

“Ugh, everything’s blurring together…”

Frustrated, Eden threw down the laundry and clutched her head. Having played the game too many times, her memories of it had become jumbled. Her repeated focus on Kyris only made things worse.

To clear the game, she needed to locate Hagenti before his rampage and uncover its cause. Once he began rampaging, it would be too late.

“I have to find out why he loses control…”

Gathering the laundry again, Eden stood. This called for a lifeline.

***

“Hagenti?”

Eden nodded fervently as she faced Rita.

“You mean the archmage?”

“Yes! Do you know where he is?”

“No idea. He’s been missing for over 50 years.”

“…50 years? Then how old is he?”

“Who knows? Magicians often stop aging.”

Rita scratched her head, and Eden’s expression grew darker. Considering the timeline, Hagenti was likely well over a hundred years old—perhaps even older.

So he’s like Gandalf or Dumbledore, huh.

The thought left Eden feeling overwhelmed as she bit her lip. Archmages were formidable enough, but someone capable of destroying an empire?

How am I supposed to stop someone like that?