Wasn’t This Supposed To Be a Strategy Game?

Eden froze mid-sentence, her tongue tied by Asmun’s gentle yet probing question. He stared at her with an expectant gaze, patiently waiting for her response.

“Me…? Did I?” she stammered.

“You said Tannir, Priestess,” Asmun dhelpfully reminded her, repeating her exact words.

Only then did Eden realize she had indeed mentioned the name “Tannir.” Her expression turned awkward as the realization dawned.

“Did you see that in your dreams too?”

Asmun’s voice was soft, but there was an undertone of mockery. He clearly didn’t believe her story.

A sense of defiance sparked in Eden, and she lifted her chin boldly. “Yes, that’s right. I saw it in a dream. So don’t worry—divine guidance will arrive soon enough.”

Asmun watched her, a faint, unreadable smile curling at the corner of his lips.

“Is that so,” he said.

After a moment of silence, he continued, “Yet, I still find it hard to believe your words, Priestess.”

Eden felt her irritation rising.

She knew Asmun’s character was supposed to be distrustful, but she had run out of cards to play. Keeping her frustration hidden, she offered a warm smile.

“That’s understandable. But you’ll come to believe me soon.”

“…Will I?”

His crimson eyes bore into hers, the earlier trace of amusement now replaced with a detached coldness. A chill ran down Eden’s spine.

“Perhaps the reason I cannot erase my doubts, even after witnessing your abilities, is because I, unlike a chosen priestess like you, have never experienced the divine,” Asmun said in a measured tone, his words akin to a confession.

For the first time, Eden felt a faint sense of pity.

She knew Asmun’s tragic backstory. Born to a lowly second empress, he had endured discrimination and scorn from an early age. He grew up suffering at the hands of the First and Second Princes, subjected to their manipulative cruelty.

In the cold, desolate palace where no one protected him, Asmun had learned early on that the only one who could safeguard his life was himself. Those harrowing years had shaped him into the cold, calculating man he was. His inability to trust others was, perhaps, inevitable.

Just as Eden was about to offer him a few consoling words, Asmun spoke again, cutting her off.

“So, forgive me.”

The abrupt statement left Eden blinking in confusion.

“The medicine you drank earlier,” he said, “was not an antidote.”

“…What?” Eden’s voice faltered, her confusion deepening.

Asmun pulled out another vial identical to the one she had consumed earlier. Without giving her a chance to react, he uncorked it and drank the contents in one swift motion, just as she had.

Eden watched him in stunned silence, her body beginning to tremble.

“What… What is this?” she asked, her voice tinged with alarm.

“It’s one of the most potent binding potions ever crafted by the Mage Tower. Procuring it was no small feat,” Asmun replied nonchalantly.

Eden stared at him, still trying to process his words.

Before she could demand an explanation, a sharp pain seared through her chest.

“Ugh…!” Eden groaned, clutching at the area near her heart as a fiery sensation spread through her upper body, stabbing her like countless needles. The pain was short but intense, leaving her drenched in cold sweat as it subsided.

Even as the pain faded, a strange tingling lingered near her heart. Eden’s instincts screamed that something was wrong. Slowly, she raised her head to look at Asmun.

“What did you make me drink?” she demanded.

Calmly waiting for her to recover, Asmun finally replied, “The potion you drank is called the Pact of Destiny. I drank the same one you did.”

Eden’s eyes widened in shock. She didn’t fully understand what the potion was, but its effects felt just as dangerous as poison.

The implications of Asmun drinking the same potion dawned on her.

“From now on, you and I are bound by the same destiny,” he declared in an eerily calm tone.

Eden’s expression twisted in disbelief.

“This is how I show you my trust, Priestess,” Asmun said, his crimson eyes gleaming coldly.

Eden felt her blood run cold.

Asmun wasn’t merely trying to believe her—he had resolved to never let her go. His instincts as a predator had seen to that.

“If one of us betrays the other…”

The chill that had gripped her earlier was nothing compared to the fresh wave of fear that swept over her as Asmun fixed her with his piercing gaze.

“…one of us will die.”

The words, delivered with unnerving casualness, sent Eden’s hands flying to her mouth in horror.

Asmun watched her panicked reaction, offering a faint smile as if to reassure her.

“As long as you have no intention of betraying me, no harm will come to you,” he added smoothly.

Eden stared at him, utterly speechless. The Third Prince was far more unhinged than she had imagined. Anger bubbled within her, but she found herself unable to express it. His eyes were too calm, too composed, even after orchestrating such a terrifying situation.

“You did promise to make me Emperor, didn’t you?” he reminded her, his tone almost as if this was the logical next step in their arrangement.

Footsteps echoed outside. It seemed that Priest Mobrin was returning. Asmun heard it too, casually adjusting his sleeves before rising from his seat.

Eden remained frozen, unable to stand, as Asmun looked down at her.

“Ah, just so you know,” he added lightly, “if you fail to make me Emperor, I will consider that betrayal as well.”

His crimson eyes, as vivid as the setting sun, bore into her. A shiver ran down her spine.

It was true. The only reason a prince like Asmun would interact with her at all was because of this very promise.

In other words, if she failed to make him Emperor, her life would be forfeit.

Eden realized, with grim certainty, that she had fallen into Asmun’s trap. He gazed at her pale face with an air of satisfaction.

“Well then,” he said, flashing a chilling smile, “I’ll be relying on you, Priestess.”

“Crazy.”

Eden muttered the word aloud, forgetting she was in the library. Thankfully, no one was around to hear her.

Back in her quarters, Eden finally understood the burning pain she’d felt earlier. A small sigil, no larger than a thumbnail, had appeared near her heart. The intricate mark glowed faintly red, resembling a summoning circle or an ornate contract.

Despite seeing it with her own eyes, she couldn’t fully believe what had happened.

The next day, Eden rushed to the library and combed through every book she could find on potions, eventually stumbling upon one that detailed the Pact of Destiny. What she read was horrifying.

Asmun had forced her into a death-bound contract with a forbidden potion. Worse still, he had willingly taken it himself.

“How do you even die? That’s the part you should’ve written down!” she exclaimed, frantically flipping through page after page.

The book offered no details on how one perished after breaking the pact, only stating that the death would be “gruesome.”

The mere thought of such a fate made her shudder.

Even if she had prepared herself for the possibility of resetting upon death, this was entirely different. A “gruesome” death was not something she wanted to experience, even once.

Moreover, Eden had an ominous feeling that there would be no reset this time. If there wasn’t, all that awaited her was true death.

“…Damn it.”

Eden clenched her sweat-drenched palms into fists. The real horror wasn’t the potion’s curse.

It was Asmun himself.