An Unwritten Story [Villainous Power Couple, LitRPG]

The private garden was enclosed by tall hedges and carefully trimmed rosebushes, offering quiet seclusion beneath the open sky. At its center stood a long, rectangular table carved from white diorite and polished to a soft sheen, its surface reflecting the light like still water.

Two chairs rested at each narrow end, while four aligned along each longer side in strict symmetry. Above the arrangement rose a wide ivory canopy stretched over a slender iron frame, filtering the daylight into a pale, diffused glow.

Vionette and Noa sat at the narrow ends facing one another, their distance measured in stone and air, not in familiarity.

Haven’t been here in a while. Vionette looked around the space with a quiet smile. Blackmoor really is second only to the royal castle when it comes to decoration.

This place is gorgeous. Noa leaned slightly back in his chair, his dark eyes roaming lazily over the scenery.

Duke Valric sat in the nearest chair to Vionette’s left side, his posture upright and his jaw firmly set.

That man is sitting where I’m supposed to sit. His pride simmered quietly, like steel left too long within a forge.

Lucien had also been invited because he was involved in the day’s events. He sat next to Valric as his son and heir, hands resting flat on the table, his spine straight.

I have to somehow turn the tables around.

Beside them sat the four counts of the dukedom: the thin, young-looking count; the rotund, middle-aged count; the count with the long white beard; and the bald, dignified count. They sat along the right side of the table in order of composure and rising curiosity.

Did that boy truly strike the duke’s son…? the young count questioned silently.

What in heaven’s name was that display earlier? the white-bearded count thought, his eyes darting between the two teenagers. Why were they acting like that with each other out there? Sigh, I truly cannot understand young people nowadays.

Then, the bald count sitting nearest to Noa leaned slightly forward, studying him. Woah! Look at those black eyes. They look as bald as my head. Get it?

The bald count almost smiled at his own private joke, but quickly swallowed it and straightened his posture. Unfortunately, this was a solemn political hearing, not a crowded tavern.

The marshal sat next to Lucien in silence, his hands folded neatly before him.

…That strike of his from before. It was powerful. No. It was monstrous. He watched Noa, his eyes examining the man’s frame.

The chancellor sat beside the marshal, nearest to Noa’s left, observing the room quietly while Rose stood right next to Noa, her hands folded in her practiced ’head maid persona.’

Many thanks to a god I don’t even pray to! Rose offered a frantic prayer inside her head, her fingers interlaced. I survived a duke being punched, seventy knights being launched into the air, and the royals flirting in broad daylight, all without losing my job!

“Mmm, looks like we’re ready to start.” Vionette extended an elegant hand forward. “Alright then, let’s start the meeting.”

Everyone present nodded, shielding their different thoughts and expressions behind polite masks.

“First, I would like to say that we will only be talking about today’s event. The special subjects will be discussed next week at the meeting at the castle.” She raised one hand, pointing a finger toward Lucien. “Now, let us start off with our little duke Lucien’s side.”

Little… duke? The phrase struck the young heir like a veiled slap.

“With Your Majesty’s permission… I will speak.” Lucien stood up and offered a flawless noble bow before continuing, his voice steady but edged with restrained emotion. “Earlier today, I entered the jewelry store in good faith. I selected an earring and paid the requested sum in full. The transaction was complete and the shop owner acknowledged it.”

Vionette shifted her gaze to Noa as Lucien extended a finger toward him. Noa simply looked back at Lucien, his expression screaming: ‘what are you even on about?’

“Yet this man interfered!” Lucien’s voice tightened. “He claimed the piece despite knowing it had already been purchased, and when I objected—calmly—he refused to yield.” A faint flush of humiliation crept into his cheeks. “I reminded him that I had already paid for it. I asked him to step aside. But instead… he struck me.”

Lucien… it’s not too late to stop this, Valric thought, staring intently at his son. Didn’t you see what happened out there before?

“How dare he hit the duke’s son?” the young count muttered indignantly under his breath.

“In broad daylight, within my own family’s territory!” Lucien inhaled deeply before finishing, as though steadying himself against the lingering weight of his shame. “Your Majesty, if a noble’s lawful purchase can be overturned by raw force, and if assault goes unanswered, then what protection does rank or law truly provide?”

His gaze flickered for a brief second—not just with lingering anger, but with deep humiliation. The dust of that earlier defeat still clung tightly to his pride.

“I do not seek conflict. I seek justice.”

She would believe that, right? Lucien thought, hope flickering within him like a candle shielded by trembling hands.

Vionette remained entirely unbothered. She lifted her porcelain cup and took a slow, deliberate sip, her eyes closed as a small smile curved her lips.

Mmm… he is good, she thought, setting the cup back down and looking toward Lucien.

“That was good, dude.”

Suddenly, Noa started clapping, drawing every single eye in the garden toward him. He held a wide, satisfied smile on his face.

“But,” Noa closed his eyes lazily, leaned back, and pointed toward Rose. “Do you know who this is?”

...What is it now? Rose thought, casting a wary glance back at Noa.

Lucien frowned, glaring at the woman. Why would I care about a maid?

He glanced toward his father, but Valric only shook his head subtly in response. Valric knew exactly who she was, but revealing it now would only shatter Lucien’s fragile chance of winning this argument.

“It’s the head royal maid—Rose,” Noa declared, pointing a thumb in her direction.

What does this have to do with meee??? Rose’s internal voice screamed in agony against Noa. Why are you dragging me into this?!

“The… head royal maid?”

“That’s the infamous Rose?”

“It’s really her…”

The counts murmured frantically among themselves, exchanging stunned glances.

The glaze is insane right now. The corner of Noa’s mouth drooped, eyes dead-pan. Is she really that important?

“…The head maid? No… way—” Lucien’s disbelief cracked right through his noble composure.

“Yes,” Vionette interrupted, nodding. “I assure you that is the head maid of the royal castle. The maid who served the royal family for almost a century.”

What would you do now, Lucien Blackmoor? Vionette’s crimson eyes folded in amusement, her chin lifting slightly. C’mon, keep trying.

Originally, Noa and Vionette didn’t even require an elaborate clarification. Vionette could have simply stated that Noa was her partner and that his word was law. But amusement was a dangerous hobby—and they were indulging in it.

What the fuck? For centuries?! Noa glanced up at Rose, his eyes wide with sudden lore drop.

“…are you that old?”

A prominent vein slowly pulsed on Rose’s forehead. She turned toward him, a terrifying smile on her face that promised consequences.

“Age doesn’t matter in this world… okay, my lord?”

“Uhh… okay.” Noa leaned slightly away from her, the murderous weight behind her polite smile making the hair on his arms stand up.

…granny.

“What happened was…” Rose began, ignoring him with professional vengeance.

…

She laid out the details of the encounter clearly, concluding her report with a calm voice. “…That’s when the lord killed Lucien Blackmoor’s knights.”

The private garden fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Lucien looked visibly diminished, his confidence draining away. Valric covered his face with his palm, slowly shaking his head, while the remaining nobles murmured softly to one another.

“Lucien, don’t misunderstand,” Noa smiled, leaning forward and placing an elbow on the table. “You’re still alive only because you piqued my interest.”

“…What?” Lucien gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white against the polished stone.

“I normally don’t forgive anyone. For me to forget you and let you live—that’s some insane luck. I wanted to see how much of that luck you have. Or…” He looked directly at Vionette. “Did you think your princess stopped me from killing you?”

Ceasing their hushed chattering, every eye in the garden turned to the Queen. Vionette lowered her porcelain cup, extended both of her hands to her sides, and rolled her shoulders casually.

“That’s right. I won’t stop him.” She closed her eyes. “I don’t have the authority over him nor any interest to stop my partner from killing someone who tried to steal my earring.”

Partner? Valric’s eyes widened instantly.

“Your Majesty’s… earring?” Lucien’s voice trembled as the realization slowly dawned on him.

Vionette brushed her white hair aside, lightly touching the gem Noa had fastened there earlier. “This is the earring, right?”

That… that is the one. Lucien’s blood ran completely cold. His heart began to hammer violently against his ribs, his eyes widening in terror.

This idiot! Valric thought, his last fragments of hope collapsing into dust.

“So Lucien… did you try to steal the earring that was a gift for me from my partner or not?” Her eyes narrowed, her casual voice turning serious.

“No—I, I didn’t mean to—” Lucien’s legs began to tremble beneath his weight.

“Better answer, dawg,” Noa chuckled, though the warning didn’t even register in Lucien’s ringing ears.

“Did you do it or not, Lucien Blackmoor?” Vionette pressed.

“No… I…”

What do I do? What do I do?

In a blind panic, he looked toward Valric for salvation. Valric met his son’s desperate gaze for a single second, before slowly shaking his head and looking down at the pavement.

Don’t look at me, Lucien. You chose the wrong answer long ago.

Lucien turned toward the surrounding aristocrats, searching the table for even a single fragment of support, but they avoided his eyes one after another. Some fastidiously adjusted their sleeves; others studied the stone pavement as though the diorite had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world; the marshal stood motionless, his silence heavier than any formal accusation.

The illusion of his unshakeable authority shattered entirely. Lucien’s knees struck the hard ground, the strength draining from his neck as his face bowed toward the dirt.

To the young heir, this felt like an immediate betrayal from those he trusted. In truth, he had eroded their faith piece by piece through years of arrogance and unchecked pride. They had always told themselves, ’he will mature someday.’ And that continuous delay had led to this moment.

A little bit more. Just one more push. Vionette’s crimson eyes glowed faintly as she rose from her chair.

Steel hissed cleanly against leather as she drew her sword from its scabbard, stepping slowly toward the kneeling heir. Each rhythmic strike of her boots echoed across the garden stones like a final verdict being carved into law.

To Lucien, it felt as though death itself were walking toward him.

…It was my fault all along. I mistook my inheritance for worth. I’m sorry… father.

Vionette’s blade came to rest gently against his neck, the sunlight from above reflecting off the polished steel and casting a bright line of light across Lucien’s skin.

“Now choose—”

Ah… this is the end for me. Next time… next time, I’ll definitely become the duke… in my own way.

“—become one of my personal assistants or die.”

“What?!” His head snapped up instantly.

The criminal knelt in the dirt, and the executioner stood above him, yet death did not fall.

A fresh wind swept through the private garden, stirring the hedges and carrying the faint scent of rusted iron and fresh rose petals. The breeze caught Lucien’s hair and caused the princess’s white strands to sway alongside it.

By breaking him down completely and constructing this illusion, she had positioned herself not as the executioner, but as the savior.

“Shatter that past and start anew… A new life and prove your worth.”

Lucien lifted his head fully and stared into her glowing crimson eyes. Flames of amusement flickered within them like embers dancing atop a fallen kingdom—alive with both expectation and opportunity.

And so, he made his choice.

One knee remained on the ground while the other rose slowly. His hands pressed hard against the earth, anchoring himself to something solid for the very first time in his life. He lowered his head, no longer in defeat, but in acceptance, allowing Vionette’s blade to rest above him like a coronation reversed.

Lucien Blackmoor accepted the flames that could burn the world.

“I accept.”

And in that garden—beneath the shade of the roses and the filtered sunlight—a broken heir was reforged into something else.

The scattered past gathered, and transformed into something divine.

Something called ‘Faith’.