Arch 4: Maid of Thorns

Aris started playing the game harder on the fourth day.

She didn't change anything obvious. She was still quiet. Still folded linens when asked. Still kept her eyes low. But the men started speaking to her like she was special, and the women started acting like she was a disease.

That was the sweet spot.

She passed the Prince in the east hall and let her fingers brush his sleeve. Not enough to count. Enough to haunt.

She bowed too slowly to the Knight when he walked by. He frowned.

And when the Saintess entered the chapel, Aris was already there—on her knees, whispering prayers she didn't mean.

> System: Are you seriously praying now?

Oh wait—you're just doing it so the Saintess sees you. That's cold. I respect it.

> Aris: "She needs to believe I still want salvation."

> System: You don't even believe in gods.

> Aris: "But she does."

By noon, she was summoned to attend the Emperor's birthday banquet. Not as a servant. Not as a guest. As something in between—a beautifully dressed "companion" brought by the Crown Prince himself.

Her dress was blue. Royal blue. It clung like sin and shimmered like trust.

Gasps followed her entrance.

The Prince didn't hide it anymore. He took her hand when she stood beside him. Let his thumb brush over her knuckles. Aris lowered her lashes and let the court believe anything they wanted.

The Saintess watched from across the room, her wine untouched. Her hands shaking.

The Knight stood near the dais. Silent. Eyes narrow.

Aris sipped from the Prince's cup. Just once. Just enough.

> System: Oh damn. Even I flinched. You just made eye contact with the Saintess while drinking from her future husband's wine.

> System: You're literally evil. I mean that as a compliment.

After the banquet, the Prince tried to kiss her.

She turned her cheek.

"Not yet," she said, with a soft smile that made him ache.

He nodded, flustered. Embarrassed. Eager to please.

Good boys always waited.

Later, alone in her private quarters, Aris sat on the floor, legs tucked under her, hair loose around her shoulders. She wiped away the expensive makeup. Let herself breathe.

Then, from the shadows:

"You're not what you pretend to be."

She didn't flinch.

The Knight stepped out from the balcony, arms folded.

"You play harmless," he said, voice low. "But you watch everyone like a wolf."

Aris looked up slowly.

"So do you," she said.

He didn't deny it.

"I've seen women like you before," he muttered. "Beautiful. Dangerous. Always end in fire."

She stood.

"Then don't stand so close," she said softly, stepping past him.

His hand caught her wrist.

"I'm not like the Prince."

"No," she said. "You're worse. Because you know better."

He let her go.

She didn't look back.

> System: Okay. That was hot.

Also: Knight has entered Stage 1 Suspicion / Stage 0.5 Lust. Proceed with caution.

Also also: The Saintess is one sharp look away from praying for your downfall.

Aris lay back in bed, eyes open to the ceiling.

This wasn't victory. Not yet.

It was just the first crack in the glass.