Chapter 3 Reject a Prince, Survive a Glitch
They say you know it's a fantasy game when the air smells faintly of roses and every hallway echoes dramatically.
Unfortunately, I had somehow skipped another romance route entirely.
This world was very broken.
I was being dragged through the Academy halls by my long-suffering maid, Prim, who had all the politeness of a caffeinated assassin.
"Lady Verenia, you must maintain appearances," she whispered, adjusting my collar with military precision.
"Your schedule is packed today—poise training, etiquette drilling, and the duel."
"Duel?" I said, mid-yawn. "I'm not fighting anyone before toast."
Prim did not blink. "You challenged the Headmistress's parrot to a swordfight. Three days ago."
"...Did I??"
"You were... very emotional. Something about him mocking your hat."
"'Cause I have excellent taste in hats."
Prim sighed the way a servant sighs when her employer might also be the final boss.
I'm still trying to figure out what kind of game is this world.
So far, the genre tags felt like someone threw a dating sim, a JRPG, and a psychological horror into a blender and hit glitch smoothie.
As we rounded the corner, I saw "Mr. Royal Pain in the Arse" was waiting for me.
Prince Leorion Athelvane was tall, dazzling, built like the concept of "melancholy yearning" with perfect hair.
His appearance was already a problem but the main issue was he was supposed to be my ex-fiancé.
But he was now gazing at me like we'd shared a tragic past on a haunted beach.
"Verenia," he said, voice rich with imagined pain. "You look... well."
I blinked. "I think, we've never spoken like this before."
He smiled, as if I'd just recited a love poem. "You deny it. Of course. The wound is still fresh."
I sighed a deep breath.
This was a love route glitch.
He was locked into some pre-scripted backstory I'd never actually played through.
That meant anything I said could trigger a cutscene.
I did not have time for that.
I slapped on my best villainess smirk and said, "Try saying something interesting. You've got ten seconds."
He faltered.
The background music stuttered.
The cutscene collapsed.
I saw a shimmer in the air—a code ripple?—as if the world had expected a different choice.
Prince Leorion blinked. "You're... not playing along. Again."
"Nope."
"I rehearsed my lines."
"Rehearse better ones."
He stared at me looking genuinely impressed.
Prim tugged at my sleeve. "You're destabilizing his arc."
"He started it."
Before Leorion could respond with something heartfelt and doomed, the sky shimmered.
Then cracked.
Literally.
A long line opened across the clouds above like a broken texture, and from it, a single figure dropped—
Not falling, but glitching downward.
He landed silently between us.
Tall. Hooded. Face half-shadowed.
His name tag read only:
But I recognized him from the background of a dozen scrambled loading screens.
It was Bug.
He turned his head, scanned the scene, "I'm not interrupting anything... romantic, am I?"
Leorion stepped forward. "Who are you?"
Bug smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know."
The moment hung, tension thick with a weird blend of narrative threat and meme energy.
Then the sky sealed itself with a ping, like someone closing a badly written G Doc.
Bug turned to me. "You're spiraling the narrative faster than expected."
"Thanks?" I said.
"That wasn't a compliment."
Prince Leorion drew a rose-shaped sword from somewhere.
"Stand back, Lady Verenia. I shall defend your honor."
Bug raised a brow. "She seems capable of defending it herself."
Leorion's cape fluttered angrily. "She is a delicate blossom!"
I crossed my arms. "I threw a chair at a duke yesterday."
"She's a spiky blossom," Leorion amended.
Bug turned to me, ignoring the prince entirely. "They're patching the world."
"Who's 'they'?"
"The developers. The ones who wrote this mess. Your presence is corrupting their code."
"Wow," I said. "It's like you're flirting with me and insulting me at the same time."
"I don't flirt."
"Then do it worse."
He smiled faintly.
Prim cleared her throat. "Lady Verenia, you're late for villainess etiquette class. They're making you learn the evil laugh again."
I groaned. "Again? I hate the evil laugh."
"It's required."
As we walked away, I glanced over my shoulder.
Leorion was still standing there, stunned.
Bug was already gone.
But the sky shimmered again—just for a moment—and I swear I saw a single line of glitch-text.